


Shadows of my Past Lives

by ChippyCon



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Angst, At some point in my life, Boi we got some, Drama, I generally write angsty stuff, I will probably be like, PTSD, Planned, Right?, Slow Build, Slow Burn, This is how I tag, and finally some, hahaha, oh well, some - Freeform, there will probably be angst, this will be fun, why did I write this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2018-11-18 08:16:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 35,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11287296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChippyCon/pseuds/ChippyCon
Summary: "She couldn’t keep doing this. She knew that. She looked upon her home with old and tired eyes. She couldn't count how many times she had don't this already. How many lives had she already lived. She couldn’t remember all the countless names she had taken on ever since… She had completed her destiny. The one that her blood had commanded her to do. It was no use for that now. Ever since the demise of Alduin, that hero had perished. The Dragonborn was dead."Lucca has left her life behind her to find a new purpose and become reborn into a different person, be it good or bad. How could she know that her past life would come to haunt her, or the life before that... or the life before that. In retrospect her original plan may not have been the best plan to follow. But she's determined to make this life, her life with her new family in the Thieves Guild, work. No matter what or who she may have to face.Romance, friendship, betrayal, secrets, flirtation. This has all the makings of a really bad drama.Welcome to another... Thieves Guild fanfiction. Yes I know they tend to follow the same format, the built in thieves guild questline... but I thought I'd try to breathe new life into this.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Claimed [Revised&Edited]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9559544) by [Herenya902](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Herenya902/pseuds/Herenya902). 



> HAHAHAHA!
> 
> I'm sorry. It's another one of these. But I thought I might be able to do something interesting with this, so... Let's try this.
> 
> Also I would like to mention that I was inspired to write this by reading another work here in the archive. It's called "Claimed" by Herenya902
> 
> Please check it out because It's really good, and this story is probably not even half of what that story is going to be.

 

She couldn’t keep doing this. She knew that. She looked upon her home with old and tired eyes. She couldn't count how many times she had don't this already. How many lives had she already lived. She couldn’t remember all the countless names she had taken on ever since… She had completed her destiny. The one that her blood had commanded her to do. It was no use for that now. Ever since the demise of Alduin, that hero had perished. The Dragonborn was dead.

She had refused sit idly basking in the glory of the legend the Last Dragonborn had been owed. It didn’t suit her, living life sitting still and doing nothing, only content in peace that comes with the knowledge that the world had been saved. No, she had always been a woman of action. She needed something to follow, some pursuit to devote herself whole heartedly. She needed a purpose, and ever since the demise of Alduin, that was precisely what her life had lacked.

Her only problem now was the fame that was tied to her name and face. She yearned for the days where she could wander around Skyrim freely without the passerby recognising her. But this problem came with a simple solution. She chose to hide her face, and change her name. A new life, she had convinced herself. Except, when she tired of this new purpose she had found, the only option she saw fit to do was take on a new life. And then another, and another, and another.

It was unhealthy. She knew this fact well. But, in her mind, it allowed her freedom. Freedom to do what she wished without the expectations of being the legendary Dragonborn weighing her down.

She had to admit, not every life she had lived had been good. Reinventing yourself did allow the opportunity to explore some dark crevices of  your personality. She had promised herself that with each new start she would lock away all of her past lives and never think on them again. At least she tried, she found it hard at first not to dwell on the past. Now she found it much easier, all the names and lives she had lived melded like one big blur. But that didn’t suppress the skills and the experiences that she had developed and cultivated over the years.

Now she stood in front of her lavish manor. One she had built up from the ground herself. There was a swell of pride that welled up in her chest when she looked upon the manor. She had thought this would be the last life she would take on. Some part of her heart had hoped that this would be her final home; a place where she could revel in this life’s accomplishments. But she also knew that that’s where the flaw in her thinking was, she was never one to sit still. She’s get too bored.

She locked the final entrance to her proud manor. _The final act of sealing this life._ She pulled the hood of her cloak over her head, ensured that the cloth that concealed most of her face was fixed properly. And with a final huff, she set off into the night.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boi we going to Riften
> 
> *Ahem* I mean protagonist who I have yet to name in writing arrives at Riften... Thrilling I know.

For a time, she simply wandered. In the quiet bliss of the wilds of Skyrim. She chose to use this time to reinvent herself. Who would she be now. What name should she take. What life would she live this time. These were questions that She always had felt were easier to answer when she wandered aimlessly around the roads of Skyrim. It was a peaceful solution, she had felt, it was like letting fate decide where she ended up.

Thinking back, she probably held to much faith in ‘fate’. Fate had left her high and dry after fulfilling her destiny in her first life, the one she possibly could never forget. Old habits died hard, she guessed.

She came to an abrupt pause. Glancing at the new place the divines had guided her to go. Riften. Her brows knitted together in contemplation. From what she remembered she had only been to Riften out of necessity. She had recalled the first time she had attempted to enter, the guards at the north gate had tried to swindle her into paying some ‘Visitor’s fee’. She supposed that was why she was never to fond of the city in the first place. However, this was supposed to be a new life; a new chance. A couple days in Riften wouldn’t kill her.

She approached the gate. The guards looking less than aware of her presence. Not that she had blamed them. She had been on the roads for a few days, and now it had seemed the moon had been shining for several hours. The dark, combined with her bad habit of moving rather quietly, she wasn’t surprised when the guards jumped when they finally noticed her. They said nothing to her. They only watched suspiciously as she entered into the city.

\----------------------

Riften was just as dreary as she remembered. The city was a rush of people on edge, as if they were expecting something terrible to happen. From what she knew of Riften itself, she actually didn’t blame Riften’s citizens for feeling so on edge. Riften was a place of problems and debauchery, so much so that she felt for the denizens that lived there. Every person she passed had a pair of dark set eyes that shifted back and forth in a constant need to check their surroundings. She supposed her rather suspicious appearance didn’t foster much faith either.

She chose to enter the Bee and Barb. In her mind she had planned to stay in a rented room for a few days. Taking time to decide whether or not this was where she wanted to build her new life. Upon her entrance into the Bee and Barb she was greeted with the inviting smell of mead and chatter. It was a welcome change of pace compared to the wilds of Skyrim.

“People of Riften!” _Oh no…_  She glanced over to the to the man in temple garb. The last thing she wanted to here was a sermon. She had spent enough time in the Whiterun Plaza.

Much to her own relief, however, an argonian man approached and abruptly put an end to the impending sermon. So she made her way through the tavern, and seat herself down at the bar. The argonian woman polishing tankards looked up at her,

“If you got the coin, you’re welcome here. Otherwise, hit the road.”

“I just need a room, and a drink, please.” She responded calmly. Pulling out a bag from her satchel and counting out coins meticulously. The Argonian woman, Keerava, as the other patrons called her, nodded and set a bottle of Black-Briar mead on the counter in front of the masked woman.

“It seems you  have attracted attention.” Keerava said in a curt statement, not even looking up from her station.

This had made her confused. She was not known for attracting any sort of attention. A fleeting glance behind herself, revealed precisely was Keerava had meant. Standing in the corner of the inn was a large auburn-haired Nord staring at her intently.

“I wouldn’t mess around with that one.” The Argonian mused, “That bastard is nothing but trouble.”

Assumably astute advice. Some that she’d probably be better off taking heed of.

“I think I’ll head up to that room now.” The woman said cautiously, making slow movements as she grabbed the bottle of mead placed in front of her, and tried to calmly make her way upstairs. From the corner of her eye the Nord seemed to stay put and not move. She was safe.

She made her way across the floor to a vacant room, when a presence behind her stopped her. She glanced behind herself again, to identify the person behind her. Though she probably didn’t need to. She knew who it was.

“Never done an honest day’s work for all that coin you’re carrying. Eh, lass?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Encounter.
> 
> *dun duN DUN!!!!*
> 
> Haha no really. I'm pretty sarcastic. If you don't know already... oh you will.

When she entered the Inn, there was something that set her apart from other travelers. Brynjolf could tell. From what he couldn’t place. She wore nothing fancy, only a dark colored set of a tunic and trousers, boots, a hood, and a mask which obscured most of her face when she walked past. Perhaps it was how the way she carried herself starkly contrasted with the way she moved. She stood straight and proud, like she needed to assert her presence. But when she moved her actions were careful, and her steps made practically no sound at all.

This was a woman who could provide precisely what he needed.

Which is why when she immediately noticed his presence when he went to confront her upstairs, he wasn’t at all surprised. What did take him back was when she turned to face him, and he stared straight into pair of bright ice blue eyes. From what he could see of her she looked like a ghost. Pale skin, rivaling that of any Nord he knew of, with hair that was strikingly similar to Vex. That, combined with the pair of eyes that practically glared at him, she looked like a ghost cloaked in darkness.

“Last time I checked, I have done plenty of honest work.” She finally spoke. Imperial, Brynjolf noted by the by accent, she really could be related to Vex.

“Not to be rude, lass. But that simply can’t be true.”

She folded her arms across her chest. But she remained planted in her spot all the same, a slight tilt in her head and her eyes telling him to explain himself.

“The way you walk, lass, is clearly the mark of someone who has experience in moving discreetly. The way you move implies you not inexperienced when it comes to a fight. And just now, you proved to have a keen sense of your surroundings. Those are the makings of someone who gets themselves into trouble… a lot.”

The woman took a moment to absorb the information that she had been given. She unfolded her arms, hooking her thumbs behind the loosely hanging belt around her waist, “How could you have possibly deduced all of that?”

“It’s what I do, lass. It’s all about sizing up your mark. The way they walk, what they're wearing. It's all a dead give-away.”

She gave a curt nod, “huh” she huffed, “Do I get a name along with this deep insight into my character.”

He let out a laugh to her remark. “The name’s Brynjolf.” He remarked, only to be met with silence on the woman’s part, “Lass?”

“Hmm?”

“Do I not get a name?”

“Oh!” She said, her eyes blinked with surprise as if the question caught her off guard, “It’s Lucca.”

For a second after she had told him her name, Brynjolf could have sworn he saw the woman freeze, and the look of confusion flash across her eyes. Was her name something that she wasn’t supposed to say? But in an instant that discomfort was gone from her stance.

“Well, Lass. If you’re looking to put a bit of extra coin in your pockets, I’ve got a bit of an errand to perform, but I need an extra pair of hands.” Brynjolf started, ready to explain his scheme.

Lucca raised a hand to stop him from speaking, “I’m sorry,” She spoke confidently, “I don’t mean to be rude, but I have been informed, that you are nothing but trouble, and that I shouldn’t mess around with the likes of you.”

Brynjolf bit back a scoff, “And who told you that?”

“A very reliable source.”

He sighed and threw his arms up into the air, “Alright. I can take a hint, lass. When you want to make some coin, come find me.” And with that he left the strange woman to her business in the Bee and Barb.

\-----------------------------------

Lucca entered her rented room at the Bee and Barb, careful to lock the door behind her.

_Shit._

She had told Brynjolf her real name. Why wasn’t she thinking straight. Lucca, _that Lucca_ , was supposed to be dead.

It was a sign from the divines. She shouldn’t stay in Riften. She should go back out into the wilds of Skyrim and find some quiet town, where no one knew her face. Or she could possibly find an abandoned place in the mountains, live off the land, she certainly had the skills to do so.

No. She couldn’t do that. She knew herself too well. She’d get bored.

One day. She’d spend one day in Riften. Then she’d head out for some other life to live out. There were plenty of other holds to explore. Surely there was something out there for her to do. Besides, she had only told her name to Brynjolf. As long as she avoided him, no one would be any wiser.

With that out of the way, she crawled into bed to end the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of Brynjolf POV I know... BUT at least we have a name now.
> 
> Also is you haven't noticed. I'm giving you what I got. Mass posting it. Sorry for the spam.


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Market Scheme GO!!

Brynjolf watched as the lass flitted about the city. It seemed as though the girl had never seen Riften before. From what he could see from his stall, she was checking every nook and cranny.

She was surveying, he realized. She was specifically looking for areas where one might avoid surveillance, and picking out every spot where there might be something of value. The lass had all the makings of being a great asset to the guild, if only he could manage to convince her to join. But he soon lost sight of the lass as she went down to the plankside of the city.

It wasn’t until the sun was high in the sky before Brynjolf had spotted her again, this time she was surprisingly close to his stall.

“I’m bored.” Lucca said firmly placing two pale hands on the bar of his stall.

“Oh really, Lass? I thought I was trouble not to be messed with.” Brynjolf replied raising a questioning eyebrow.

“You are.” She answered with a nod of the head, “But I’m bored.”

“Changed your mind I hope?” Brynjolf said with a light laugh underneath his breath.

“Just tell me this scheme of yours.” she responded, tapping her fingers against the wood of the stall, The lass was itching to get into some trouble.

“I never said it was a scheme,” Brynjolf said, only to be met with Lucca’s unamused eyes. “It’s simple. You’re going to sneak over to Madesi’s stall and use your lockpick on the strongbox. Then when you have the ring your一”

“Wait.” She interrupted, “Which one is Madesi’s?”

Brynjolf gestured to the stall just across the marketplace.

“Oh,” She said after looking over to the stall, she moved her right hand down to reach into her satchel, “So you mean… This ring?” She flashed the silver ring precariously between her fingers.

Brynjolf’s brow furrowed in confusion, “When did you一”

“I. Got. Bored.”

“Well you’ve got the ring. All you need to do is plant it on Brand-Shei.” He said, pointing to the dunmer so she could see.

“What for?”

“We’ve been contracted to make sure Brand-Shei remembers not to meddle in affairs that aren’t his own.”

“We?” She asked, inquisitively raising an eyebrow.

“My Organization,” Brynjolf clarified.

“Oh. I see. I’m just the hired help.” She replied sarcastically.

“Aye, Lass.” Brynjolf couldn’t help but chuckle at the remark, “But I don’t think it’s anything you can’t handle.”

She nodded, “Alright,” Lucca let out a controlled sigh before continuing, “Pickpocketing may not be one of my strongest suits. But let’s do this.” She tapped the bar of the stall for luck before taking a step back. Presumably to prep herself.

“Alright. Just wait until I make the distraction, then show me what you’re made of.”

She nodded and walked away casually.

Brynjolf completely lost sight of her as he droned on about his falmer blood elixir. It was a job that he didn’t think would take long, but I also saw no signs of it getting done in the first place. Did she just wonder off?

His doubts were soon answered when Brand-Shei suddenly jumped up from where he was sitting screaming, “PICKPOCKET!” _Shit._ The Lass had been pinched. Or so he thought, because as Brand-Shei turned around to face the culprit, the lass was gone. Nowhere to be seen.

“What?” The dunmer gawked in confusion, “I could have sworn….” The dunmer felt around his pockets looking for anything that might have felt out of place. But he couldn’t find anything, “Must’ve been my imagination…” He finally muttered to himself.

There’s an odd twist. If the lass had succeeded then he would have found the ring by now. Speaking of, where was the lass? He hadn’t seen her since she had walked off to start the job. Brynjolf eyed Brand-Shei warrily. He didn't take her for a flake. He usually had a nose for this kind of thing.

“I believe I’m supposed to be paid now.” Spoke up an all too familiar voice.

Brynjolf glanced over to the source, only to see Lucca holding out her hand toward him expectantly.

“Aye, lass, you were. If you had done the job like I asked.” Brynjolf said the annoyed anger present in his tone.

Lucca only looked at him with her brows furrowing in confusion. “What are you talking about?” She gestured over to Brand-Shei’s stall and pointed out the Riften guard now harping on the dunmer.

“This is insane! I didn't steal anything! I never saw this ring before in my entire life!” The Dunmer cried out before the guard went to take him away.

“I did exactly what you asked,” Lucca continued, “It just took two tries is all.” She made a grabbing gesture with her extended hand. “You man’s been hauled off, jobs done.”

“Aye, you’ve got a point there.” Brynjolf sighed handing over a coin purse of gold, “I didn’t think you’d get pinched.”

“I didn’t.” Lucca hummed confidently as she weighed out the coin purse in her hand.

“Aye, but he still caught you the first time.” Brynjolf noted, as Lucca put the coin purse safely away, “Can’t say i'm surprised with the way things have been going lately.”

Lucca looked up inquisitively. Though she didn’t say anything, the look in her eye told him that she seemed intrigued and wanted to know more.

“My organization’s been having a run of bad luck, but I suppose that’s just how it goes.”

“Hmm..” Lucca mused, “I assume that’s why you’re here, selling… ” She paused to look at the label on the bottle, “ ‘ _Falmer Blood Elixir_ ’...What’s in this stuff anyway?” She uncorked the bottle and brought the mouth of it to her nose, “Ulgh, something died in this bottle.” Her grimace was visible through her mask as she held the bottle away from her face.

“That’s kinda the point in the name, Lass.” Brynjolf said grabbing the bottle from Lucca’s hand and recorking it, “You’re ruining the integrity of my product.”

“What integrity?” Lucca laughed, clearly not fooled. “You’re telling me that this stuff will allow me to become a mind reader, and make me live for a thousand years?”

“Why don’t you buy a bottle and find out yourself?” He retorted resting both of his arms on the counter of the stall and leaning closer with a cunning smirk on his face.

For a moment it seemed like she might have been contemplating buying a bottle for herself. She tapped her fingers against the wood of the stall and eyed the bottle in contemplation, before finally shaking her head. “Nope. It’s not worth it. For all I know it’s probably just some dirty sewer water.”

“Not one to be fooled by a scam, eh?” Brynjolf laughed, “Smart and skilled, We could use more people like you in our outfit.”

“Is this the same organization that is down in luck at the moment?”

“Aye. But there’s plenty of gold out there for the taking… If you’re up for the challenge.”

She pause for a moment, like she thought she might’ve misheard something, then looked at Brynjolf with eyes that seemed like they took offense to his little taunt, “I can handle any challenge.” She said simply and confidently. As if she had the experience to back that statement up.

“All right, then. Let’s put that to the test.” Brynjolf grinned. He had got her. “The group I represent has its home in the Ratway beneath Riften... a tavern called the Ragged Flagon. Get there in one piece and we'll see if you've really got what it takes.”

She paused for a moment. Staring Brynjolf down. “I’ll think about it.” She responded. She backed up from the stall and begun to move away back to the Bee and Barb.

He called out after her,“When you make up your mind, come find me there and we'll talk about your future.” She simply waved her hand as a signal that she had heard him as she entered the Bee and Barb.


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the Thieves Guild. It's a mess. We know. It's kinda hard to keep the place clean when we live in the sewers.

Lucca laid on the bed of her rented room, tossing the coin purse into the air to stave off boredom. One day. She had promised herself that she’d only spend one day in Riften, and then she would be off to the wilds of Skyrim to find a different path.

And Organisation of people of his line of work… terrible salesmen? She laughed under breath at the thought. No, the others in the market mentioned that he was in close relations with an organization called the Thieves Guild. So he probably wants to recruit her to become a thief for them. It was an interesting thought. Building this life around the occupation of a thief seemed to promise that it would never get boring. Boredom… a problem she had been struggling with for a while now.

She had to admit, she missed the days when her life seemed to have purpose. And joining a guild might just be the sort of thing that she needed. She would be surrounded by people with similar interests, meaning she wouldn’t be isolated again. However, being isolated did allow for a certain amount of privacy, and the ability to build certain barriers. If these people did start asking questions… she wasn’t quite sure how long she could keep up the mirage about who she was.

She sat up in the bed holding the weight of the coin purse steadily in her hand.  _ Thief huh? _ This life promised to be interesting to say the least. She pulled her knapsack from against the bedside table. Putting away the coin purse, and pulling out and empty journal, ink, and a quill.

 

_ Private Journal of Lucca Bianche _

_ Middas, 15th day of Second Seed, 4E 208 _

 

With this she wrote down the events of the day making sure to detail everything.  _ That settles it,  _ She thought to herself. By writing this out in this journal, she had chosen that this was the life she was going to live for the foreseeable future. She would take on the name Lucca once more.

\-----------------------------------------------

Navigating the Ratways seemed all too easy for Lucca. The cretins that seemed to call the Ratways home didn’t really put up much of a fight. Though they did indeed fight. The only thing that really caught Lucca off guard was the fact that these people in the ratways seemed so hostile in the first place. The thought of such feisty people living in the sewers of a rather populated city concerned her. This Ragged Flagon must be filled to the brim with all sorts of strange characters.

When she did finally happen upon the Ragged Flagon she was rather… unimpressed. Thinking back she really didn’t know what she expected from a tavern located in the sewer system. But the actual shop seemed much more bare than how she picture in her mind’s eye. Yet there was still some pang of familiarity to the place.  _ Perhaps she had been down here in a past life _ . When she approached the actual area, she noticed a small group of people conversing.

“Give it up Brynjolf.” The man behind the counter started, “Those days are over,”

“I’m telling you this one is different.”

“You say that about all the pretty lasses you meet, Bryn.” Retorted the bald breton sitting at a table a little ways away. 

“Then you’ll be pleased to know that you can trust my judgement on this one, Delvin.” Brynjolf turned to the breton in retaliation, “I don’t actually know what she looks like.”

The Breton, Delvin presumably, looked confounded, “How in the bloody hell can you not know what the lass looks like? Did you even meet her?”

“Aye that I did.”

“Then clearly you must have some semblance of what she looks like!”

Brynjolf made no move to counter Delvin’s statement. He only flicked his eyes up at Lucca alerting everyone in the room of her presence, not that she had tried to hide it in the first place. She stood at the entrance of the Ragged Flagon, as if waiting to be called over, with her arms crossed across her chest.

“Huh. Well I’ll be.” The breton began as he looked over the would-be recruit, “You know, we slap a mask like that on our little Vex and we’ve got a pair of twins!”

“Excuse me?!” Both Lucca and Vex exclaimed in unison. The two looked at each other taken aback by the similar responses to the statement.

“Hah! See that Bryn? They’re in sync!” Delvin clapped his hands together in a burst of bravado, as the two imperials both glared at him menacingly. They were both clearly unamused by his actions.

“I think someone has had a little too much to drink.” Vex practically hissed, as she stormed over to Delvin’s table.

Brynjolf instead pulled Lucca to the side, “Well, well… color me impressed, lass. The Ratways give you any trouble?”

Lucca brushed of a tear in her tunic, where one of the cretins managed to get a small cut on her. “I’ll admit I wasn’t expecting the journey down her to be quite so…” She pause thinking of the proper word that she wanted to use, “feisty.” She looked back to Brynjolf, “But it was nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“Reliable and Headstrong? You’re turning out to be quite the prize.” 

Lucca rolled her eyes, seeming to disregard the comment, “Well, I made it down here in one piece.” She sighed, “What next?” 

“Well now that I’ve whetted your appetite with our little scheme at the market place, how about handling a few deadbeats for me?”


	6. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the Taking care of Business quest line with a whole lot more of Banter and Sarcasm.

Oh she was going to kill that Brynjolf. If there was one thing she disliked worse than actually having to deal with foul-mannered people, it was having to demand something from them. Especially if they were unwilling to give you what you wanted.

How in the world did she get put on tax collection duty? She thought that they were supposed to be a guild of thieves, not a guild of debt collectors. This was a stupid way to prove oneself to the guild, that she was certain of. Collect money from three different people. Get the money using any means necessary, besides killing them.

Ugh. This was tedious. But she wanted to just get it over with. So she trudged out the ratway, up the stairs, and down the path to her first point of business.

Her first target was the Bunkhouse. From what she knew, the Bunkhouse was another inn in Riften where one could rent a bed. Apparently, quite a few men in town preferred to sleep there. She entered the bunkhouse to the smell of food, mead, and some sort of msk that she couldn’t quite name.

“If you’re looking for a room, go to the Bee and Barb, the Bunkhouse is for the working man.” The snide blonde behind the counter, Haelga, looked at Lucca with an expression of contempt when she walked in. Clearly Lucca wasn’t wanted even if she didn’t come here to do what she was about to do.

Lucca approached the counter, flexing to keep the scowl from off her face as she approached, not that anyone would be able to tell. She placed both hands down on the counter opening and closing them in a movement to try and keep her mind off of her  irritation, “Actually I come with a message.” She paused for a moment. Trying to decide whether or not she wanted to anything more, “From Brynjolf.”

The annoyance in the blonde’s face devolved into the very same scowl that Lucca was trying keep off her own face, “What does that bastard want now?” She growled, “I already told him, you can’t draw blood from stone.”

“Well that’s a lovely metaphor and all, but I'm not leaving here without the money.”

“Tough luck, sweetheart, You’re not getting a single septim out of me.”

Lucca could feel the vein in her forehead bulging. This was going about as well as she expected. Lucca placed a hand to her temple, she was not ready to deal with the headache that was about to ensue, “Give me the money, _sweetheart_ , or you will regret what will happen next.” She stated simply, refusing to lose her cool to this woman.

Haelga scoffed, “I think I’ll take my chances, thank you.”

Lucca straightened her stance, She hoped she could solve this ordeal without doing this, “All right. Fine.” Lucca stared at the blonde behind the counter dead in the eye, before storming off to the side to go retrieve something. When she came back to the counter she slammed an ornate statue of Dibella down on the counter, “I guess I’ll just throw this down a well then.” Lucca hissed with a grip on the statue that looked like it would be deathly if the statue itself were alive.

Lucca watched the blood drained from the Haelga’s face as she tried to make a grab for the statue. “Ah!” Lucca waggled a finger as she held the statue just out of reach, “You have a debt to pay.” Lucca looked back to the statue, “And I have a shrine to desecrate.”

“I can and will call the city guard on you.” The Nord threatened.

“And what will they do, exactly?” Lucca taunted, waving the statue around precariously. “They burst in here, I have your precious statue, who knows what happens.” If anyone could gaze upon her face, they would be able to see the devious smirk that currently is gracing her lips, as she slowly uncurled her fingers from the statue hanging precariously over the floor, “Instead of losing the _Divine_ lady Dibella to a well, maybe you’d have her smashed remains here on the floor” She feigned a gasp, “ _Sacrilege!”_

Haelga’s eyes widened in fear, “Not Lady Dibella! Please!” She cried as she extended her arms out in a vain attempt to save the statue that teetered on the brink of destruction. “I can’t lose her.”

Lucca stopped, “Then you know what I need.” She held her other hand out expectantly while gently rocking the statue gently in her rather loose grip.

“Alright. I get it, message received.” Haelga hissed, bending down underneath the counter to retrieve a coin purse, “Here’s your gold.” She placed the coin purse in Lucca’s hand, “I hope you choke it.”

Lucca slammed the statue down on the counter, leaning in close to the Nord who was trying to pry it out of her grip. “I’ll keep that in mind.” She hissed.

\--------------------------------------

The next point of business was the Pawned Prawn; A Bersi Honey-Hand, if she remembered correctly.  Dear Divines she hoped this one wasn’t as stubborn.

To her dismay, he was.

“Welcome to the Pawned Prawn. What can I do for you?” Bersi spoke, welcoming to the prospect of a new paying customer.

Lucca approached the bar, following the same routine as she did for Haelga, “I’m come with a message from Brynjolf.” She practically sighed out, preparing for the outrage that would most likely ensue.

She watched as the expression on Bersi’s face developed into one of contempt like Haelga’s did, “So, Brynjolf doesn't even bother to show up himself anymore, eh? What's this message?”

Lucca grimaced, _oh boy_ , “Pay your debt. Or else.” She stated simply. Knowing full well that he probably would not take it to well.

“Petty threats and fist waving are not going to sway me. You people are all talk, and everyone knows it!” Bersi growled.

“I thought this would go something like this.” Lucca muttered, “Okay.” She said louder for Bersi to hear, “Let’s just get to the point, shall we?” She flipped around and grabbed the dwemer urn that resided just across from the counter and held it up for him to see. “You like this urn?” She asked her eyebrows raised. She already knew this answer.

Bersi paled, “That’s my Dwe一”

She dropped the urn before he could even finish his statement.

A part of her was enveloped in a proud sense of joy as it smashed to a million pieces on the floor. She looked backed to Bersi, “I wonder what else there is in here to smash.”

“No no no no nO NO NO! I get it! I get it!” Bersi cried shoving a heft coin purse into her hand, and then proceeding to force back out the door she came from, “You can have your money. Just leave!”

She found herself outside the Bee and Barb with the door slammed closed behind her. She sighed. Two down, one to go.

\-----------------------------

The last person go and talk to was the one that Lucca had been dreading the most. Mostly because at the moment she was providing her shelter, and food.

Lucca entered the Bee and Barb, dreading what would come next. If this one turned out like the last two did, she would not like what was about to happen. When she approached the bar Keerava looked at her like the other two did when she was about to destroy their property. Oh boy. Lucca definitely wasn’t going to like this.

“Look…” Lucca began, trying to soften this blow as much as she possibly could, “I just nee一”

“Look, everything was all just a misunderstanding.” Keerava rambled in a hurried and panicked tone, “I didn't mean to tell Brynjolf to go jump off the pier. You'll tell him I said sorry, yes?”

Lucca stared at Keerava dumbfounded by what she had just been told. This was a surprise that she hadn’t been expecting. “Wait what?”

Keerava looked at Lucca like she was being silly, she gently placed a coin purse on the counter and pushed it over to Lucca, “Take this. Every single coin I owe is there, I swear it.”

“Thank you…” Lucca eyed the coin purse warily, this was shockingly easy. But Keerava was looking at Lucca like she was scared Lucca would burn the place down. This coming from the woman who is providing her with a place to stay did not bode well. She sighed, “You promise to keep up with the payments?” She asked the innkeeper.

Keerava gave a curt nod, like she was afraid to say something that might piss Lucca off.

Lucca picked up the coin purse and weighed it in her hand a bit. Then proceeded to push the coin purse back across the counter towards Keerava, “Keep it” Lucca said somberly as she pulled out her own coin purse from her knapsack, pocketing several septims to make the weight of the bag more balanced to the one she had just felt, “I’ll pay it.”

Keerava stared at Lucca, as if to try and gain some understanding as to what the gesture was supposed to mean, “What?”

“I’ll pay off your debt for you,” Lucca explained, “You just keep up with the payments from now on and we’re good.”

“Why would you do this?” Keerava asked in a hushed tone. She grabbed Lucca’s hands as if to stop her from doing something rash, “Why would you do this for me?”

To hell if Lucca actually knew why she was doing this, perhaps it’s because she actually liked the woman in these two days that she got to know her. Lucca smiled, not that Keerava would be able to see, but she’s like to think that the smile somehow reached her eyes, “I like to think that I was once a nice person in a past life.”

Keerava’s brows furrowed, not understanding the meaning of such a statement. But Lucca provided no further explanation. She only turned to leave the Bee and Barb.

“Miss?” Keerava called out making Lucca stop and turn back to face her, “That guild doesn’t deserve your kindness.”

Lucca gave a soft smile towards Keerava, not that she would ever know. Lucca then left the Bee and Barb to turn in the reapings of this rather menial task.


	7. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It might be important to note that I'm doing these scene by scene... and not technically chapter by chapter... Thats pretty much why these updates are pretty short
> 
> Arrrggg I'm and artist not a writer dammit

Lucca returned to find Brynjolf sitting at the bar of the Ragged Flagon. She approached the bar full of pride that she had completed the objective completely and without any complication. She imagined that that had some significant weight in the business of thieves.  
Brynjolf turned to her as she approached the bar, he leaned against the wood for support with a smirk and a raised eyebrow, inquisitively asking her if she had done the job without saying a word. Once she she reached the bar she slung her knapsack over her shoulder and in front of her, so she could properly rummage for the things she needed. She placed down one coin purse, “Haelga,” Then another, “Bersi,” and then the last one, “Keerava.” And with the final coin purse she rested her hand on her hip, daring to him to challenge the work that she had done.  
Brynjolf eyed the coin purses, like he was trying to decide whether or not the septims inside were real or not. He sat quiet for a moment, probably deep in thought, before he nodded his head in an approving manner, “So you did the job, and you even brought the gold. Best of all you did it clean.”  
Lucca shrugged, “I mean, nobody got hurt.” She said, “But If I die tomorrow, know that it’s probably because I may have pissed off Dibella.”  
Brynjolf gave a breathy laugh while shaking his head slightly in confusion, “What?”  
“Well…” Lucca began in a pitch that was much higher than her regular voice, “I may have threatened to smash Dibella’s likeness in the lobby of the Bunkhouse and then proceeded to accuse Haelga of sacrilege for the entire hypothetical scenario.”  
“And you think the Divines might smite you for that?” He asked.  
Lucca shrugged again, “They might, I don’t want to risk it.”  
Brynjolf held a hand to his face trying to console himself before he said what he needed to say next. It was sort’ve a welcome sight. Normally people didn’t respond well to sarcastic attitude.  
“Well,” Brynjolf began turning his face so that he could look at her properly, “Judging from how well you handled those shopkeepers, I'd say you've done more than simply prove yourself.”  
Lucca raised an eyebrow, as if to say really? “I suppose if there’s more gold involved…” She mused remembering the fact that she did just pay off a rather massive debt for someone out of the kindness of her own… well… rather questionable heart. She probably needed to earn that money back somehow.  
A grin split across Brynjolf’s face, as if those were the exact words he wanted to here, “That’s the spirit!” He began to walk across the flagon motioning for Lucca to follow, “Larceny’s in your blood.” Lucca rolled her eyes as she followed. She knew exactly what was in her blood and frankly she wouldn’t call it larceny.  
Brynjolf stopped in front of a cabinet in the back hallway of the flagon, “I think you’ll fit in just fine down here.” He opened the cabinet and pressed on the back panel revealing a secret area that the cabinet was hiding. He then stepped through to the secret hallway, motioning for Lucca to follow once more.  
After crossing through the door Lucca was greeted with the vast expanse that was the Cistern, the heart of the guild. Lucca couldn’t help but let out an impressed whistle as she meandered, her eyes wide and wandering to inspect every detail.  
“Impressed by what you see, lass?” Brynjolf asked looking back to her as they walked. He looked at her with an expression that was mixed with both amusement and skepticism.  
Lucca nodded still not really looking directly at Brynjolf, but following his general pathway, “I must admit,” She began, “That, for sewer hidden underneath the city…. This place is pretty cool.”  
“I’m glad,” Spoke out a gruff and rather unamused voice.  
Lucca stopped dead in her tracks, and her eyes snapped to the source of the voice. Before her standing in the center of the cistern was a stern Breton. He had his arms folded across his chest, and his face was twisted into a sneer that looked as though it had been there for years. His eyes were hard and stern, and he looked down on her with his superiority clearly showing through his stance.  
This was not a man Lucca would get along with.  
“Mercer?” Brynjolf began, catching the Breton’s attention, “This is the one I was talking about… Our new recruit.”  
Mercer looked her over, analysing her. Lucca shifted uncomfortably under Mercer’s gaze. She felt as though he was trying to decide whether or not he would be able to make her into a useful tool. He was trying to decipher what skills she could possibly possess, and how he might use them for his benefit. By the look on his face, it was clear that he thought she wasn’t worth the effort.  
He turned back to Mercer, clearly unimpressed by Lucca, “This better not be another waste of the Guild’s resources, Brynjolf.” He then turned back to Lucca finally addressing her, “Before we continue, I want to make one thing perfectly clear. If you play by the rules, you walk away rich. You break the rules and you lose your share. No debates, no discussions... you do what we say, when we say. Do I make myself clear?”  
Crystal. Though who had ever heard of thieves who followed a set of rules and abided by a code? Then again, she supposed a guild wouldn’t be able to work properly without some form of structure. Plus, the man in front of her seemed like one of those types who would tear her apart if she did a single thing that might’ve undermined his authority. So instead of saying something stupid, like what was her first instinct, she just gave a simple nod and a pronounced, “Yes, sir.”  
Mercer nodded, still with his scowl smeared across his lips, “Then we are in agreement.” He stated simply, and turned to go returned to whatever work he was doing.  
“Mercer, aren’t you forgetting something?”  
“Hmmm?” Mercer pause looking back towards Brynjolf. Clearly he had no clue what he might’ve forgotten, “Oh yes.” Mercer turned once more to face Lucca fully, “Since Brynjolf assures me that you will be nothing but a benefit to us.” Lucca could almost taste the sarcasm that dripped off of his words. He clearly didn’t believe a word of what he was saying, “You’re in. Welcome to the Thieves Guild.” He gave a nod to Brynjolf, and then turned to leave, this time following through and making it all the way back to what Lucca presumed to be his desk.  
Lucca and Brynjolf stood silent in the center of the cistern for what seemed like an entire era. “I guess that when about as well as it could.” Lucca said quietly, her words not really directed at anyone in particular.  
“I wouldn’t worry about it, lass.” Brynjolf spoke in a comforting tone, “That’s just Mercer being Mercer.”  
Lucca sighed, “I’m going to go out on a limb, and say he really doesn’t like me.”  
For a moment it looked as though Brynjolf was about to say something to counter her statement, but the words obviously couldn’t come to mind. So she was probably right. Mercer hated her.  
“He’s just been in a foul mood lately.” Brynjolf finally stated, as if a foul mood would be a good enough excuse to cover the fact that Mercer would probably fillet her alive if she stepped one toe out of line.  
“Alright down to business,” Brynjolf started again. He begun to point out different areas so she could get better acquainted with the area. “Vipir can help you with pickpocketing, Niruin with marksmanship, Vex with lockpicking, and Delvin with sneaking.” Now he was just listing off things. Like she had to absorb all this information for some form of test later on. “Speak to Tonalia to get your guild armour, and I expect you back here early tomorrow morning.”  
“Wait, What?” Lucca asked incredulously, “Why?”  
A devious grin grew on Brynjolf’s face. This was something he had been waiting for. “Well, lass. We have to get you up to the thieves guild standard somehow.”  
It took a moment for Lucca to realize what exactly that meant. And when she did figure it out she met Brynjolf’s grin with incredulous eyes. This man was a daedra in disguise, she was sure of it. “Training?” She scoffed, “Really? What happened to my being ‘skilled and smart’?”  
“Aye but even the best of us need to sharpen our skills.”  
She desperately wanted to wipe that stupid grin off his face, “This is some kind of new recruit hazing isn’t it.”  
Brynjolf only shrugged his shoulders, refusing to answer the question.  
Lucca didn’t want to deal with this anymore tonight. So instead she chose to head off in the direction of the ladder that Brynjolf had pointed out earlier.  
“I expect you to be here at dawn!” Brynjolf called out to her as she was leaving.  
“Go jump off the pier, Bryn!”

 

 

 

\------------------

I mentioned that I'm an Artist?

[Meet Lucca](https://www.instagram.com/p/BV0lE4QFjML/)


	8. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I mean... I do these things by scenes... Do I really need to describe the Scene?  
> Okay for the purposes of just knowing the basic contents of this chapter.  
> First day training fun.

It had been two hours.

She sat on the Master chest in the training room her foot impatiently tapping against the stone of the floor was the only resounding noise in the room. She was going to kill that man. She made sure that she was in this room well before dawn, just like she was told to do,  and now she had been in this room for a suffocating amount of time.

When Brynjolf did enter the Training Room, he casually strolled in with the morning glow of a restful night’s sleep and an attitude to face the day, “Morning, lass.”

Lucca didn’t dare to grace that man with any sort of remark. She instead gave him a scowl through the eyes of a woman who obviously desired the extra two hours of much needed sleep, and stood up from her seat atop the practice chest. 

“Now I’ve already seen you action, so this will be a basic assessment of your abilities.” Brynjolf started, ignoring the evil looks coming from the annoyed Imperial, “Since you’re already by the chests, why don’t we start with your lockpicking.”

Lucca rolled her eyes as she approached the first, and lowest level, chest. With a slight tap of her foot, the lid to the chest opened easily with an audible  _ click _ ! One by one, Lucca repeated the same process with every chest in the circle, showing that each and every one of them were already unlocked, “I have been waiting in here for two hours, Brynjolf.” 

“Aye, but at least you were productive with your time.”Brynjolf replies, with the same smirk he had last night. He knew precisely what he had done. He walked over to the opposite end of the training room, picking up the bow that was against the wall and holding it out in front of him for her to take, “How’s your Archery?”

She sighed grabbing the bow from Brynjolf and taking her place across from the targets in the room, “I’ll admit I’m more of a dagger and sword kind of person.” She said as she tested the string of the bow. It was more slack than she would have liked it, but it would do. She notched and arrow and aimed, ready to fire at the target. She took a breath, focused her aim, and….  _ Thunk _ ! The arrow sunk itself deep into the dead center of the target in front of her.

“You’re slow.” Brynjolf noted as he inspected the fired arrow with much careful consideration.

Lucca huffed. “I hit the target.”

“Aye, lass, you did.” Brynjolf nodded in agreement looking back at Lucca, “and you were slow doing it. Do it again, this time faster.”

Lucca looked at him in disbelief, and failed to suppress the scoff that escaped from her mouth. “Daggers and Swords,” She muttered under her breath, “Daggers and Swords…” She brought the bow up once more. This time the frustration swelled behind her eyes, and she didn’t steady her hands. When she let the arrow fly, her aim was uncertain. This went against everything she had ever learned in handling a bow. She hated bows, for her they required time and concentration, and when she tried to rush her bow work, her aim always ended up slightly off: As attributed to the arrow barely clinging to the target. 

She glanced over to Brynjolf, as if to get some form a gage for what she already knew was a failure. All she could see him doing was nodding with his own contemplative expression on his face. Her hand reached for the sheath that rested peacefully at her hip. Her fingers curled around cool metal of the ringed pommel of her favorite dagger, the one she kept by her side at all times. In a swift and fluid movement the dagger was in her hand and on display in front of Brynjolf’s face; on display, and the bow fallen forgotten on the floor.

“Daggers and Swords,” What happened next moved with an air of familiarity and control. This is how she preferred to take care of her distance attacks, this didn’t require the same concentration and planning for her. The dagger flew from the tips of her fingers and straight to the target. She could pinpoint the Brynjolf’s disbelief as the dagger moved with enough force to split the first arrow down the middle. 

She couldn’t help the smirk that came across her face as she went over to the target to go retrieve her dagger, not that anyone could possibly notice. But still she had a certain amount of pride in the way she walked. 

“That was…”

“Bows are bulky.” Lucca stated simple, as she sheathed the familiar blade back into its proper place at her hip. “Besides… I’m slow.”

“Just how many daggers are you planning on carrying around?” He gave a quizzical look, with an eyebrow cocked up in amusement.

Lucca matched his look, with one of her own; A fierce look in her eye that said, ‘don’t underestimate me.’ 

“How many daggers  _ do  _ you have?”

Lucca leaned casually against the straw-stuffed training dummy, “That’s none of your business.” She flicked the bucket helmet of the dummy, satisfied by the resounding  _ ping _ of the cool metal. “Are we done now?”  She asked, “You know I can pick locks, I can sneak around, I’m crap with bows, and you got a full display about how I’m not so good with picking pockets the other day.” 

Brynjolf nodded in agreement, “Aye, you need to work on that.” He tentatively walked over and grabbed the bow from floor, and handed it back towards Lucca’s direction, “But now, you need to practice.”

Lucca grabbed the bow out of Brynjolf’s hand with a scoff. “I hate bows.”

“You can hate them all you want, lass, but you still need to practice.” He grinned taking the place where Lucca once was; He leaned against the training dummy a hand tapping rhythmically against the bucket helmet.

Lucca glared at Brynjolf, her hand gripping the wooden bow so tight  that she could feel the splinters break through her skin. Once more, Lucca brought up the bow to go through the pain that was actually having to fire an arrow. 

Out of the corner of her eye she saw movement. She broke her concentration on her task at hand to glance over, only to see Brynjolf sauntering his way out of the training room. “Wait!” She called out remaining planted in her spot with her arrow readied, “Where are you going?”

He didn’t bother to look back. He only lifted a hand to signal that he had heard Lucca, “I’ll be back soon.” He said simply as he left the training space.

Lucca didn’t know whether to be offended by this or not. What exactly did he expect her to do? She hated working with bows, and something told her that he wouldn’t be back for a long while.

\-------------------------------

 

Brynjolf had lost track of how long he was away from the training room. He had assumed he had been away long, because, when he did return to the training room, all he was greeted to was an empty room, and a set of four targets, all riddled with arrows to the point where they were hardly recognizable anymore.

“I ran out of arrows.” Brynjolf almost jumped as a familiar voice called out of seemingly nowhere. He looked over to the source only to find Lucca seated in the middle of the alcove of training chests. She had one hand grasping the edge of her mask, like she had just pulled it back into place, and her other hand was passively holding a half-eaten loaf of bread. She seemed to catch the fact that Brynjolf was eyeing her food, because she then took a very defensive stance, “I didn’t have breakfast today because of you.” She stated, wrapping her unfinished bread back into some form of tattered piece of cloth.

“You can get food at the flagon, lass.”

He could hear the smile in in Lucca’s voice as she stated, “Yes, but Keerava feeds me for free.”

Brynjolf had to stop for a moment, and contemplate that statement. Keerava was one of the most stubborn people he has ever met. He felt his brow furrow, “What on earth happened between the two of you yesterday?ー” He stopped himself, there was a bigger problem at hand, “Who told you to stop practicing your marksmanship?”

Lucca shrugged, “I ran out of arrows.”

“You could have reused the ones in the targets.” Brynjolf stated gesturing to the arrow-riddled set of targets just across the room from them.

He could hear the slight giggle Lucca let escape from underneath her breath, “No…” Lucca mused to herself, her satisfied grin showing through her eyes, “That would ruin it.” She only looked at the at the targets, a certain amount of pride showing through her demeanor as she stared at her handiwork.

Brynjolf looked back towards the targets, trying to figure out what she might’ve been so pleased about. Upon closer inspection he saw that there was parchment pinned to each target. The sheer multitude of arrows made it hard to make out what was on each sheet of parchment, but he could make out that each had a face crudely drawn in charcoal, “What’s this?”

From the way her mask wrinkled across her face, he knew that she was hiding a devious grin, perhaps to a joke that only she would be able to understand, “Motivation.”

Brynjolf would possibly never be able to understand this woman. 

He sighed, “Rune you can come in now.” He called out to the spry fellow member of the guild. Rune walked into the room, glancing around with wide eyes as he searched for the new member of the guild. 

Brynjolf watched as Lucca visibly tensed as Rune entered into the room. She must’ve not have had the chance to introduce herself to everyone in the guild yet. She walked steadily over to Rune, with the slightest hint of a stiffness in her step. 

Rune flashed Lucca a bright grin as she approached him, “Ah.” He remarked, “Our new sister-in-crime.”

Lucca could only provide him with a slight nod, and a questioning glance towards Brynjolf. 

“Rune here…” Brynjolf begun to explain, outstretching a hand to gesture towards Rune, “Is going to help me assess your dagger skills.”

He see Lucca’s eyes light up  at the mention of daggers. He thought something like this would make her happy, especially since she had been bragging earlier about how she much preferred daggers to bows.

“A Dagger fight?” She asked, failing to hide the excitement in her tone of voice.

Brynjolf nodded, “Blunted daggers, though. We don’t need guild members hurting each other.”

For a moment it seemed that Lucca was disappointed with the idea of blunted daggers. But after a moment of contemplation she nodded, “Makes sense,” She stated simply.

 

Before long, Rune and Lucca were standing across from each other face-to-face, each with a pair of blunted knives. Rune stood ready, sparring matches between guild members was common, and Rune was well versed; he knew how this would go and what he needed to do. Lucca however took her time flipping the daggers in her hand over and over. She seemed to be familiarizing herself with the foreign knives, a smart thing to do and a sign that she herself knew her way around these sorts of fights.

Brynjolf felt the corner of his mouth turn up the slightest bit, this would be an interesting match to watch.

No words were spoken between the two of them. Simply a nod between the two of them as the gazed intently across the distance between them. Rune was the first to move, he took on the aggressive role as he immediately swung at Lucca the moment he got close. However, Lucca had a surprising capability to read through his movements. She moved like a veteran fighter, narrowly dodging Rune’s attacks with ease. 

There was a significant difference between the two’s fighting styles. Where Rune’s attacks attempted to overpower and his swings went wide, Lucca made sure that she kept her daggers close to her, orienting her body behind the blades in a defensive manner.

One of Rune’s swings aimed wide, straight for Lucca’s neck. In a swift movement she was able to catch his attacking arm with a defensive block of her own, and then jabbed her dagger straight into the joint of where Rune’s arm connected to his torso.

Brynjolf cringed as Rune yelped painfully and jumped back from Lucca. Now Lucca was on the offensive. Her stance and footwork were firm and easily overpowered Rune, who had angled himself so that his bad arm was facing away from Lucca. 

Lucca’s attacks were a barrage of quick jabs and darting blows. They were easily blockable in the clanging of metal against metal, but the way that Lucca moves allowed for little opportunity for Rune to find an opening. And by the sheer speed of her attacks, it was clear that she was trying to tire Rune out so that she could sneak in whatever attacks she could through his defense.

It was clear that Lucca was solely focused on the opponent in front of her. Rune gave a pleading gaze over to Brynjolf, it was clear that he was over his head by himself in this fight. Thank goodness that was never the plan. 

Rune had managed to get a blade out of one of her hands, but Lucca still had him cornered and clearly held the upper hand in the fight. Brynjolf pulled out the dagger from his belt and neared the fight discreetly, attempting to get the jump on her from behind.

Time seemed to freeze for a single moment, as Brynjolf felt the cold of a blade pressed against his neck and he stared into the ice blue eyes of a woman who had clearly been expecting some form of attack from behind. He glanced down at the blade that Lucca held pressed against his neck. It’s was the same blade that she had shown earlier; a peculiar blade that looked to be made of bone. Brynjolf hoped that his face looked nothing like Rune’s pale stricken face of shock that was plastered in place.

Lucca relaxed, sheathing the blade that was pressed against Brynjolf’s neck at her hip and dropping her useless blunted dagger on the floor, “I win.” She stated

Both the men were at a loss for words. No new recruit had been able to see through the tag teamed duel. And the sheer speed of her reaction… this was someone whose skills were on a different level altogether.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is my longest chapter... It certainly took the longest to write... Jeezus.  
> I hope your enjoying the story. If you are, feel free to leave a comment or Kudos, I'd love to hear from you.
> 
> Disclaimer that I am an artist, not a writer. So yes, my writing is probably crap.  
> If you would like to check out some of my work I am most active on my instagram: @chippycon


	9. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a meet the Guild fam sort of thing. But not really at the same time.

Lucca was exhausted both mentally and physically. A long, and rather tedious, day of doing nothing but “proving her worth” had left her in a way that her body wanted nothing more than to lie down a vegetate on the ground. She hated to admit it, but her last life might’ve left her a tad bit out of shape. She sighed. Brynjolf was right in stating that she’d need to hone her skills; She was feeling rusty.

She sat at the back table of the ragged flagon, where her chair backed against the shelving. Her hands gingerly ran over the spots where working with bowstrings had left her skin raw, because her hands had yet to form calluses. Rune had been telling her about how he had came by his unusual name, though Lucca didn’t remember ever asking. 

It wasn’t long until the table, that she had hoped would be somewhat secluded, was surrounded by some of the more friendly, or curious, members of the guild. Soon she was listening to tale after tale of what these members did before they were members of this ragtag guild. Thrynn was a bandit, Niruin had been a part of a wealthy family in Cyrodiil, and Vipir was currently going on about how he had roamed the lands as a wealthy treasure hunter and had come across much wealth. though judging from the rolling eyes of the others, Lucca figured she needed to take Vipir’s story with a grain of salt.

“So, newbie, what about you?”

Lucca paused as she glanced up at Niruin, who was looking at her expectantly waiting for an answer. “What” She had let slip out of her mouth. She hadn’t expected questions about her past. 

Niruin sighed, “What were you doing before Brynjolf found you?”

“I was…” Lucca had to think for a moment. How did she want to go about this? “I was wandering…”

The three around the table gave her skeptical looks. 

“I don’t know how else to explain it,” Lucca continued, “I tend to wander, and when I wander I tend to find trouble.” Her fingers drummed softly against the old wood of the table, “I was simply walking around in the wilds of Skyrim when I stopped in Riften.” She laughed slightly underneath her breath, “And then I found the thieves guild, so I guess my luck continues.”

“Don’t you have any family?” Rune chimed up.

This made Lucca pause once more. She hadn’t thought about her family for a long time. “They’re in Cyrodiil.” She said, not really paying attention to what she let fall out of her mouth at this point. She tapped a finger against the cloth of her mask, “At least, last I saw them…”

Thrynn was the one to pipe up this time, “Last you saw them? When was that?”

“I guess it’s been a little over seven years now,” Lucca pondered. “I haven’t really had the chance to visit.” Especially since she was supposed to be dead. 

 

“DELVIN!!!”

 

The Flagon was stunned silent as an enraged Vex stormed in through the ratway. Her feet pounded against the wood flooring of the flagon like drums warning of impending doom. Eyes turned towards the breton in question as his face paled.

“You idiot!” Vex hissed as she slammed her hands down on the table which Delvin was seated, “This last heist was a complete dud!” She yanked her knapsack down from her arms and placed it on the table with murder in her eyes, “That ‘priceless family heirloom’ you heard about was absolutely worthless. This was the only damn thing of value in the whole house.” She ripped open the knapsack to reveal a rather ornate yet simple lute.

“Well you can get a few septims for it, Vex.” Delvin’s voice quivered, and beads of sweat visibly dripped down from his scalp as he tried to distance himself away from the angry Imperial.

“A few septims?!” Vex scoffed, “My time, and effort, gone into avoid all of the city guards, infiltrating the mark’s house, and escaping without being noticed is worth a  _ few septims?! _ ”

“You could keep it.” Lucca’s voice spoke up. She immediately regretted the decision to speak though. Vex’s murderous glare instantly aimed towards her, and sneer across her face deepened at the sight of the of the fledgling member.

“What?” Vex spat, her anger refusing to curb.

Lucca sighed knowing well that she was probably poking a bear that ought to be left alone, “Keep it.” She said simply, “Who knows, it might be able to lighten things up around here. It’s common sense for a tavern to have a Bard.” She couldn’t help the sarcasm that leaked through her tone, although her eyes refused to match Vex’s gaze.

Vex laughed. Vex laughed a chilling sort of laugh that displayed how she thought the idea was entirely ludicrous; no sensible person dared to make a sound. “I don’t suppose  _ you _ know how to play the lute?” She challenged, holding the instrument out towards Lucca at an arm’s length.

_ I am probably going to regret this later. _ Lucca thought to herself, as she defiantly stood up from her seat at her table. All eyes were watching her as she calmly made her way over to Vex. She grabbed the Lute from Vex’s grasp and examined the instrument thoroughly. Surprisingly, it was an extremely well crafted piece, and it would probably sell for much more than a normal Bard’s instrument, but Lucca did not need to mention that to Vex. She held the instrument and played a few chords before looking up to Vex, with a glint of confidence to match the challenge, “Any requests?”

Vex didn’t speak. Clearly she didn’t want to grace this with any sort of remark, but she didn’t have to. After a few seconds of tension filled silence, someone called out, “Sing the Age of Oppression!”

Lucca had to stop herself from scoffing. She supposed that this would start off with something controversial about the war. Her fingers made quick work with the strings of the lute as the iconic first notes of the song resonated through the flagon.

 

\---------

 

Brynjolf had simply wanted something to drink. He had just finished a meeting with Mercer where he had talked Brynjolf’s ear off about the sorry state of the guild. Frankly, Brynjolf didn’t need to be updated on this subject. No one knew more about the terrible state of the guild than he did, and about how the conditions seemed to be getting worse with each day that passed. No one cared more about the guild than Brynjolf. The guild was his home, and if it were to fall Brynjolf had no clue where he would go. 

He entered the Flagon to music, laughter, and the entire flagon in song. The sound of a lute playing and the velvet voice singing a song that he had heard several times over the years.  He turned the corner to see what was going on, only to find Lucca had seated herself on a barrel with a lute in hand, masterfully playing it’s strings. She had somehow gotten almost everyone to sing along with her merrily as the raised their tankards to the sky as they danced around the flagon in song.

Brynjolf couldn’t recall the last time he saw members of the guild happy like this. Everyone seemed to forget the down trodden times, and simply enjoyed the moment. Brynjolf leaned against the stone wall, admiring the scene from a distance. When the song ended, a drunken applause erupted from the members who had joined in on the song, and Lucca took a simple bow from her perch atop her barrel. She laughed when she sat back up, in a way that was warm an infectious. Though he couldn’t read her face, it looked as though she was having fun.

“Alright. Alright. Last call for requests, and then I’m done for the night.” She mused remnants of her laughter leaking through her voice. There was some talk amongst everyone in the Flagon. Multiple people decided to turn in for the night already, Rune had gone to bed, and Vex had already left for some important job. I was becoming clear that Lucca was just about ready to join them.

“How about ‘Tale of the Tongues’?” 

Brynjolf could visibly see Lucca stiffen, as all eyes looked to the source of the request.

“Here we go again.” Thrynn cried out, wrapping an arm around the man in question, “Etienne and his ‘Dragonborn’ obsession.”

Etienne rolled his eyes, “I am simply grateful to the woman; she saved my life when she didn’t have to.”

“And if she had not fallen in battle you would bed her in an instant.” Thrynn replied with much bravado, to which the the entire flagon erupted in a laughter. 

Etienne took a swig of whatever mead was in his tankard, trying to drown out the noise, “I simply wish to honor her memory.” He said, his eyes glued to the table in front of him.

Brynjolf watched as Lucca shifted uncomfortable on her perch, and resituated the lute in her hands so that she could play properly. She said nothing as she wordlessly played the into, her fingers dancing gracefully across the neck of the lute, and the flagon fell under a new sort of hush as they listened to her song.

“ _ Alduin’s wings, they did darken the sky, _ ”

This song was different than the one that Lucca had performed earlier. During this song Lucca sang with a sort of melancholy. It was slight and barely noticeable, but Brynjolf could tell. He watched as she swayed slightly side to side as she sang, as if she herself was lulled into a trance with her own song. The song itself was soft and sweet in melody, only to added by Lucca’s voice which, Brynjolf had to admit, held a certain allure as well.

Everyone in the flagon attentively listened as Lucca sang, and the song came to an almost harrowing close. Lucca finally opened her eyes and slid off the barrel. She carefully placed the lute on the top of the barrel, as the general atmosphere of the Flagon returned to normal. 

Lucca calmly walked over to Vekel at the bar and ordered a bottle of mead before Brynjolf decided to approach her. “Where did you learn to play?” He asked as he leaned up against the bar.beside her.

Lucca shrugged, “Perhaps I was bard in a another life.” She said as if it was just a simple statement that she had often thought about.

“Another life?” Brynjolf asked. Lucca glanced up at him, the look in her eye revealing that she probably had ever been asked about it.

Her gaze shifted back towards the other members, as she leaned her back against the bar. A few of the members had decided to pick up the lute and mess around, resulting in some rather unceremonious noises. She gripped the bottle of mead in her hands, “It’s just a thought I often think about. I like to think that if I had another life, things might be different.”

Brynjolf nodded in understanding. He had to admit the idea of possibly living a different life had an appeal. “Can I ask you something?” Brynjolf turned his body to face Lucca, as she glanced up at him.

“Depends.” 

“You paid Keerava’s debt yourself.” Brynjolf said with his brow slightly burrowed in confusion, at the thought of the act, “Why?”

Lucca remained composed, “I saw no need to collect from her. It was clear that the message that you wanted to send was received, and she wouldn’t skip out on payments again.” She shrugged, “I also didn’t want to get kicked out of my room.” She stated more bluntly.

That made Brynjolf laugh, “Well, as long as she doesn’t skip out on payments… I don’t think I can complain.” He looked over to Lucca, who was looking at him in a way where he could see the smile shine through her eyes. For a moment he wondered her her smile held the same beauty. 

“Well…” Lucca began, leaning away from the bar, “I’m going to head for the Bee and Bard and turn in for the night.” She gestured back towards the Cistern with her unopened bottle of mead.

“You know there are beds here, lass.”

“Yeah, but at the Bee and Barb I actually have a room where I can get some privacy.” Lucca joked, casually stepping backwards towards the Cistern, “I’ll see you in the morning.” 

And with that she turned and left the Flagon for the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always thank you for reading this chapter and hopefully there are more on the way. I would appreciate your feedback and would love to talk if you feel inclined to. Thank You!


	10. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter summary~~~ Chapter Summary~~~~  
> Does anybody actually read these things???

Lucca was in the main hub of the Thieves Guild bright and early, and this time of her own accord. She had attempted earlier to get a job of sorts through Delvin, but his jobs tended to deal more up close and personal things, like pickpocketing. Frankly, Lucca didn’t want to to handle any sort of those jobs at the moment, and Vex was still out on her job, so she felt the best use of this free time would be to train, as much as she hated it. 

Now she stood in front of lifeless training dummy her daggers drawn. She calmly rehearsed the points to attack moving the blades and mimicking the attack needed to do sufficient damage. “Stomach, Neck, Forearm, Armpit..” She recited the list as it had been drilled into her head.

“You’re here early aren’t you.”

Lucca looked over to the entrance of the training room, only to find Brynjolf leaning against the wall, grinning from ear to ear.

“How long have you been standing there?” Lucca asked sheathing both of her blades.

Brynjolf made his way over to the training dummies alongside Lucca, “You know, if you wanted to practice daggers, you could have asked me.” He shrugged, “I make a decent sparring partner.”

Lucca couldn’t help the scoff that escape her mouth, “I think I’m fine, thank you.”

“I’m not trying to insult your skill with daggers, lass.” Brynjolf said, “But, a sparring partner tends to be better practice than the dummy.” He gestured to the straw-stuffed mannequin on a stick.

Lucca rolled her eyes, “I actually tried to pick up a small job Vex this morning and maybe get some pocket change, but she isn’t back from her job, yet.” She begun to make her way out of the training room, with Brynjolf walking with her side by side.

She watched as a look of confusion fell over Brynjolf, “That’s odd.” He mused, “Vex should be back by now.”

The two had entered the rather quiet Cistern. Most of the members who spend their nights here were still asleep in their beds. “I’m sure she’s fine.” Lucca assured, she had heard high praise for the guilds top infiltrator, and doubted that that praise was given without any merit.

Just as the words left her mouth the scraping sound of the entrance to the cistern echoed throughout the halls. The two turned toward the entrance of the cistern patiently expecting Vex to make her way down the ladder. Instead a large object fell down the ladder and landed on the ground with a loud,  _ thunk _ . The resounding noise waking up practically everyone in the confines of the cistern. It took a minute for everyone to realize just what was lying crippled at the bottom of the ladder.

“Oh  _ Divines _ !” Lucca exclaimed, being one of many in a crowd of people to make it over to Vex. 

Brynjolf was the first to reach Vex in the midst of the panic. In an instant he was knelt on the floor surrounded by the chaos of everyone else trying to see what one earth was going on. Soon the entrance of the cistern was filled to the brim with members and a constant stream of questions on the state of the guild’s most prized infiltrator. “She’s losing blood fast,” Brynjolf stated, glancing up at anyone in the group who may have a semblance of an idea on how to help as he held his hands firmly in place on the wound in Vex’s side.

Vex was a mess of shallow breathing and blood spilling out of a deep laceration in her side, and her complexion looked even paler than usual. Vex dared not try to cry or scream out of either pride or near loss of consciousness, but it was clear the amount of pain that she was in.

Lucca’s head swam in the cacophony of noise. Everyone was trying to get a word in on how to help, and multiple people trying to push in closer. Delvin himself made it through the crowd and was able to kneel down beside Brynjolf. There was too much chaos and not enough getting done to actually help with the crisis at hand. 

“What in Oblivion is going on here!?” 

Everyone gathered around Vex turned sheepishly to face Mercer, who stood before the group arms crossed and his familiar scowl furrowed deeply in his expression. People shuffled out of the way before him, showing Vex vulnerable on the ground with a select few who chose to stay by her side. 

Mercer remain cool, and unaffected by the scene before him. “Someone go get any healing potions we have.” He begun, barking orders like a true leader, “Lets move her to one of the beds and get her off the floor. Someone else go and get any linen wraps you find lying around. I don't care if we have to take them from Elgrim, just go get them. Move!”

With that the members of the thieves guild scattered like rats, off to go and do whatever it was that they could for their comrade. Delvin and Brynjolf both worked together to move Vex carefully to the closest bed.

“Brynjolf…” Lucca said as she tried to approach.

Brynjolf pushed back, “Go and help the others if looking for supplies.” His tone was athouritive as he issued the command to her.

Lucca shook her head and tried to near again, “That’s what I’m trying to say,” She stated, “I can help.”

Brynjolf turned to her with a look in his eye that warned her that she had better not be joking. “How?”

Lucca made a move to rub her hands together slightly, then held them apart as a warm golden glow filled her hands. She glanced back up at Brynjolf, hoping that alone was proof enough. Both Brynjolf and Delvin looked surprised by the sight, and Brynjolf backed away hesitantly.

Lucca knelt down at the side of the bed without a word, and held her hands steadily over Vex’s wound. She was careful to take deep controlled breaths as she was certain to maintain a steady flow of magicka into the spell. She could feel the eyes of both Delvin and Brynjolf on her back as the watched her heal Vex with bated breath.

“I don’t think I can close the wound,” Lucca said out loud in the most collected voice she could muster. She kept her eyes fixed on the wound herself as she watch the spell slowly try and mend the damage, “It’s too deep. But I can try to make it less severe.” She sighed, knowing full well that that wouldn’t be enough to ease the worries of everyone in the guild.

Brynjolf made a note to nod but remained wordless as Vipir and Rune came running in with arms fulls of linens, possibly more than they would ever need.

Lucca stepped away from Vex’s bed, having done all that she could, and let the others step in front of her and take care of Vex from there. From there Lucca wasn’t exactly sure what to do. Common manners dictated that she should probably stay nearby for the sake of Vex, but she also didn’t know Vex well enough to justify waiting beside her bed, not to mention the fact that her and Vex’s encounter the past night. Instead she chose to sit at the edge of the cistern, letting her feet dangle in the water. This way she could watch the commotion happen at a distance.

 

\--------------

 

It was hours before the commotion over Vex died down a bit. The imperial was awake now, and rather pissed that she had been confined to bed rest. If she was in pain in any way she was not showing it through her demeanor.

Lucca had to laugh as she watched Vex still chide Delvin from a distance. She was leaning against the wall near the entrance of the training room, debating whether or not she wanted to approach Vex to try and pick up a job. She needed the work, and something to do… but the timing of it all seemed a little insensitive.

The presence of someone next to her made her snap out of her train of thought. She glanced over to her right only to find Brynjolf looking at her with a contemplative look, “Can I help you, Brynjolf?” She asked.

“Just who exactly are you, lass?”

“I believe I already told you my name.” Lucca responded, returning her gaze to straight in front of her.

“That’s not what I meant, lass” Brynjolf responded rolling his eyes.

“Then what did you mean?” Lucca asked, though her sarcasm was easily noticeable.

Brynjolf sighed, “I’m just curious as to why you have the skills that you have.”

Lucca scoffed, “You mean my skills in restoration magic, or my ability to play the lute?”

She joked, only to be met with Brynjolf’s rather unamused expression, “If it helps I’m absolute crap at alchemy… and gardening.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“Nope,” Lucca shrugged, “Not avoiding… just not answering.”

He seemed frustrated with the way she was dancing around his question, “May I ask why?”

Lucca felt the smile grow underneath her mask as she knew that his frustration would only grow, “I think I’ll just remain a mystery.”

“The only mystery here is what you do to benefit this guild.”

Both Brynjolf and Lucca jumped and swiveled around the guild master who had managed to sneak up on the two of them.

“You have been here for two days,” Mercer seemed to hiss as he glared daggers in Lucca’s direction, “And all you’ve done with your time is sing and dance.”

For once in her life Lucca was stunned silent, as she couldn’t do anything but stare in disbelief, “um… sir,”

“I want to know how you’re making this guild money.” Mercer stated firmly his eyebrows furrowing deeper into his eyes than Lucca thought possible.

Lucca stammered a bit, “I was going to talk to Vex… but…” She tried to point over into the general direction of where Vex was.

“Well then today’s your lucky day, newbie. I’ve got your first job for you.”

Lucca’s head cocked to the side as she tried to comprehend what she was being told.

“Congratulations,” Mercer continued as his scowl relaxed into an expression of simple apathy, “You get Goldenglow.”

Brynjolf’s face paled as Mercer said these words, “Mercer, you can’t be serious!” He exclaimed, “You saw the state Vex was in!”

“Precisely. The job remains incomplete.” Mercer replied clearly not moved, “And our employer needs it done.”

Lucca could only listen as the too continued to discuss back and forth over the details and the dangers of the job. She could only sit there and try to comprehend the gravity of the apparent situation. From what she could gather this ‘Goldenglow’ is an important job from a high paying customer, a customer Mercer didn’t seem to want to cross. Brynjolf seemed concerned because Vex spoke of unseen complications to the job that had caught her off guard. It was a constant back and forth between the guild master and his second over her fate.

“You say that she is valuable to the guild, so let her prove it” Mercer finally hissed much to Brynjolf’s dismay. The look on Brynjolf’s face still showed that no part of him agreed with this plan. But it was never his say to begin with.

They both turned to the towards Lucca expecting some form of reply. “I uh…” Lucca stammered once more with the attention suddenly turning to her, “ I can handle it.” She affirmed, trying to force confidence into her tone.

That got a smirk out of Mercer, “At least someone has some confidence.” He said passing a glance towards Brynjolf and turning around to leave.

Lucca let out a sigh as the guild master left their presence. It was either the sinking feeling in her stomach or the concerned look on Brynjolf’s face that told her that she would probably regret what she just signed up for. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading another chapter of this fine story! If you enjoyed it feel free to leave kudos or leave a comment I would love to talk to you!


	11. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Goldenglow job.
> 
> Please forgive any errors you find in this. As much as I'd love to say that I look over these rigorously before posting them... I don't.

Lucca sat in the training room comfortably on one of the chests in the lockpicking corner. She had her hood pulled far down so that the shadows it cast obscured most of her face, and she held a half filled tankard of mead carelessly in her hands.

At first the Goldenglow job didn’t seem like it would be too difficult a job. The estate she was to infiltrate was secluded on an island in the middle of the lake, and all she was supposed to do was sneak in light a few beehives on fire, and clear out a safe. Simple. Stealth was one of her specialties, as long as she stuck to the shadows she would be fine. Except for the fact that she had talked to Vex about the job, since it was hers to begin with. Vex had said that there was a major bump in security, mercenaries that have already proven what exactly they would do to trespassers. 

She leaned her head against the cool stone of the wall.  _ It’ll be fine.  _ She had the skills to handle this, she could handle this. But the the swishing from the liquid in the tankard in her hand told her a different story. An estate supposedly filled to the brim with mercenary guards, and Lucca had to delve deep into the hornet’s nest. She didn’t want to admit it, but her nerves made her feel jittery and the alcohol wasn’t kicking in. She didn’t want to admit it, but she was scared.

She had the skills. She kept on reciting it herself in her head as if the mantra would help soothe her nerves. However, there was one thing nagging in her head that told her otherwise. The no killing rule. She felt as though the safety net had been ripped out from right underneath her. She was to infiltrate a large estate filled with guards, and she’d have to move about so that she’d never reveal a glimpse of herself to any guard. She was good, but she wasn’t sure if she was  _ that _ good.

“It’s bad form to get drunk before a job.”

_ Shit! _ She scrambled to pull her mask up despite the fact that her hood was doing an adequate job of obscuring her face. She hadn’t heard someone enter the room. She glanced up towards the intruder only to see Brynjolf standing with his arms folded, but a kindred look on his face.

“I’m beginning to think you’re following me.” Lucca said at the sight of him. It seemed that Brynjolf simply wouldn’t leave her alone.

He let out a breathy laugh that was barely audible, “Just making sure you’re okay.” He mumbled as he took a seat beside her on one of the chests, “Can’t have the newest member cause any trouble under my watch.”

“So you think that as soon as you turn your back I will go wreak havoc or get myself into trouble.” She laughed slightly as she swished around her drink inside its tankard, “Sounds like something I’d do.”

“Oh?” Brynjolf raised an eyebrow as he leaned forward in his seat looking over towards Lucca, “Are you actually going to say something about yourself, lass?”

“You know plenty about me already,” Lucca responded while rolling her eyes.

“Quite the contrary,” Brynjolf sighed, “I know that you excel in some skills, yet you’re shoddy in others… but I know very little about  _ you _ , lass.”

Lucca sighed as she stood up from her seat. She bagan walking towards the exit to the room. She was content to simply leave him right there, not even gracing his statement with a snide comment. But she stopped herself and turned to face Brynjolf, “I hate bows because I feel they take too long to use, and I am a very impatient person.” She began as she gestured to her flagon, “I like mead well and fine, but I don’t drink too often, because the last time I got drunk I got married to a hagraven, and had to steal a goat from a giant.” At this Brynjolf’s face contorted into confusion at the thought. “I have family somewhere in Cyrodiil, but I haven’t spoken to them in seven years. I’m not even sure if their still alive. I get bored easily and that often leads me to do some stupid things, which is why I often come face to face with all sorts of trouble. And I learned how to use magic, because I’m constantly scared that that trouble will come and find me when I am defenseless.” Lucca finished as she looked over to Brynjolf. The look on his face was a mixture of confusion and attempted understanding; somewhere during her monologue he had realized what she was telling him. With one more sigh Lucca continued, “And  _ that _ is all you’ll  _ ever  _ need to know about me.” She sighed, not daring to look over once more at Brynjolf to meet his gaze, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a job I need to get to.”

“Wait.” Brynjolf said suddenly standing up from his seat. Lucca pause and  refusing to look back at him, but instead, simply waiting for him to continue, “Just, be careful. Divines know that we don’t need another member to come back like Vex did.”

Lucca nodded as she moved to leave once more, “I can’t make any promises.” She said as she left the room to go off to do the job.

 

\----------------

 

Lucca was crouched at the edge of the lake staring at the massive estate that sat proudly on an island in its center. She could feel her skin prickle with anxiety as she picked out the broad silhouettes of every guard roaming around the outside of the manor. She had to be completely silent if she was going to make it through this. All the guards seemed to be within earshot of one another, so if she messed up and alerted just one, she’s have all of them on her ass. She gnawed at the fabric of her mask as she examined the area trying to find the best way to go about this. 

There was the front gate… but that was most assuredly locked, and with all of the guards roaming about she wasn’t about to risk a stealthy attempt at picking the lock. She could try to nab the key off one of the guards, but she had absolutely no faith in her ability to do that. No, her best bet would be to try and set a distraction, and use the lake. She’d swim up behind the beehives on the far side of the grouping of islands, that way she could knock out one objective of this job while also using it as a distraction to make her way over to the sewer grate that Vex had advised her to use. The panic of the fire should be enough to distract everyone from finding her presence.

_ Alright. _ She nodded curtly to herself. She had a plan. Slowly she entered the water of the lake, doing her best to not make noise as she submerged herself. The water was chilling as she waded her way over to the area just behind the beehives. She pulled herself just up behind the fence protecting the beehives. The cool air bit at her skin, and her drenched clothing clung awkwardly to her body as she moved carefully along the fence line. She peered carefully from behind the fence so that she could be able to see where guards would be posted from this area.

There was only one in the vicinity of the beehives. One that would, hopefully, be easy to distract.. She pulled a small iron dagger from her satchel, its cool metal glistening in the moonlight. In one swift action the dagger went soaring through the air, the resounding  _ Ching! _ of its landing was more than enough to capture the attention of a few guards, including the one guarding the beehives.

They gathered around the dagger like children discovering a dead mouse in the street. Lucca almost laughed at the fact that they had to sit and ponder what it meant. One was even asking another whether or not they had dropped one of their own daggers.

She used the distraction to get behind the line of beehives. She needed to move quickly. Once they noticed the flames, she would only have a very small margin of time to make it back into the water and into the sewer. 

Lucca closed her eyes and quietly pooled her magika in the tips of her fingers. When she exhaled her breath and opened her eyes she held a delicate flame in the palm of her hand. She held the flame under the base of the first beehive, allowing the flame to catch the slightest amount of material. She needed to delay the full flame moment for as long as she possibly could. Once she was certain that the flame would catch, she moved quickly to the next beehive.

The first beehive went up in flames just as she started working on the third. Lucca could hear the sudden panic of the guards as they noticed the fire. The thumping of boots on the dirt was the only thing that she could hear as she struggled to get the third beehive to catch. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest as the second Beehive burst into flames. Finally after Lucca had felt that she was out of time, she slammed her flaming hand into the final beehive in a fit of rage.

The final beehive burst in an explosive burst, and Lucca was quick to move far away from the scene and back behind the fence. She pressed herself against the fence and allowed a cautious sense of relief fall over her, but she dared not break her deathly silence.

“Spread out,” Called out a gruff voice from by the flames, “Whoever this was can't have gone far.”

Lucca sealed her eyes tight and focused all of her energy to listening to the patter of boots, as the guards started to scour the area. It took a little while before the sounds of the guards were far enough away that she felt comfortable enough to move again. But once they were she was back over the rocks and into the water once more swimming to where the entrance of the sewer underneath the bridge.

It was only once she was finally inside the sewer did she finally allow herself to fully relax. Once more she summoned a flame in her hand, and she used it to warm herself up. She could feel the water dripping off her clothing and felt like everything sloshed around when she moved. This was less than optimal for what she needed to do. She did her best to wring out whatever water she could from her clothing. She didn’t need a trail of water when she was trying to be stealthy.

She kept her flame ready as she made her way through the sewers. There was no real opposition down in the sewers, only the enraged skeevers who despised the fact that someone was treading in their domain. Vex was right in saying that this was probably the best way to go about getting into the actual building of the estate itself. Lucca dreaded the idea that she might still be outside attempting to sneak around all of those guards.

The sewer came up just behind the back entrance of the estate. It was just out of sight from prying eyes. Almost immediately, Lucca knelt before the door and begun work on the lock easily opening the door with a single lockpick.

Once inside, Lucca was met with the striking smell of mead and sweat, which only told Lucca that there were even more mercenaries inside the building with her.  _ Great,  _ She thought to herself, this part of the job would be quite a bit harder than she was expecting. She moved silently through the main floor of the house, listening carefully for movement and banter from the other residents in the house.

Her target now was the safe, which , if she had to guess, would probably be located in a basement or lower level of the house. Therefore that was where Lucca chose to head. She scoured the house looking for ant set of stairs that headed down, slinking in the shadows past multiple mercs on her way. Finally, she found what looked like would be a good place to store valuables. Her only problem was the merc posted directly across from where she needed to be. 

She took out another iron dagger, she came by these things so easily they were practically expendable. The dagger flew into the area just past the stairway leading down further, and buried itself deep into the wall.

“What was that?” The Merc asked, as he moved to go investigate.

In a bust of movement, Lucca made her way down the stairs, and to the barred door at the bottom. She had to force herself from not letting out some form of ungodly noise as she examined the lock on the door. She didn’t have the time to try and pick this complicated of a lock with the man just at the top of the stairs now on alert. She had no choice. She had to find some sort of key for this door.

She turned to make her way back up the stairs, pressing her body flush with the steps as to try and avoid detection as she tried to pinpoint where exactly the merc was. Much to her dismay he was wandering around back near his post, this time warily looking around for some form of presence. 

Lucca bit her lip as she tried to reach for another dagger. _Shit!_ She only brought the two iron daggers as her spares, and never in oblivion would she part with her dragonbone dagger. She wracked her brain, she could use a spell, but that might draw way too much attention, possibly even alert the others in the general vicinity. Lucca saw only one way to solve this problem, though she dreaded the fact that she was forced to use this method.

She sucked in a silent breath as she mentally prepared herself for the pain that was soon about to ensue. She let out whispers, murmurs of her voice escaping in wisps of sound, yet it didn’t emanate from her mouth, but rather an area off in the distance. 

This was enough to get the merc to move away once more and allow Lucca to move past swiftly. Once she was past him, and clear of anyone else she had to take a moment. Her throat felt like it was on fire, and she grabbed her own neck in a firm hand as she tried to dull the pain through ragged breaths. 

The ‘Throw Voice’ thu’um never affected her quite as hard as other thu’ums did, but it was still a painful reminder of what she had lost and still left her voice ragged and her throat raw. It took quite quite a lot longer than she hope for the pain to ebb and become more manageable. But she still had to press on.

Making her way upstairs should have been simple, but Lucca found herself distracted by the lingering pain in her throat as she tried to breathe. More than once she had alerted a guard to her presence, but was able to mesh in to the shadows enough to ease suspicion. Once she had made it upstairs she wasn’t able to find any sort of key lying about anywhere, which led her to one conclusion. The key was most likely with Aringoth himself, the owner of the estate. She juggled for a moment one which she would rather risk, pickpocketing the key off the the man himself, or trying her luck at a lock that would give even masters a difficult time. She bit her lip as she decided to go with possibly the more riskier of choices, and made her way over to Aringoth’s room.

Finally inside Aringoth’s room, she had shut the door as quietly as she could and scanned the room around her. It had seemed empty, but the moment she took one careful step forward she discovered the Altmer crouched in the corner staring her down right in the eye, a vicious snarl smeared across his face.

“Worthless mercenaries.” He spat, “I didn't think Maven or Mercer would allow me to get away with this, but I had little choice.”

Lucca slowly rose from her own crouched position, holding her hands out in front of her in an attempt to de escalate the situation, “I just need the key to your safe,”  Lucca spoke, her own voice rough and ragged.

A grimace fell upon Aringoth’s expression and he contemplated the thought, “I can’t. If I do I may as well cut my own throat.”

“If you do, I could reason Mercer,” Lucca pleaded, “I could get him to let you off easy.”

“I don't believe you!” He hissed as he pulled out a dagger, brandishing it angrily against Lucca. “That is not your way!”

Lucca slowly tried to back away from the angered Altmer. “Fine, Fine.” She spoke in an attempt to ease aggression, “I’ll just leave. You won’t have to see me again.”

The moment Lucca took one definitive step away from him, Aringoth lunged out against her in a cry, “NO!” He screamed, “I’m not about to let you ruin everything I worked to hard for!”

His wild strike caught Lucca off guard and in a blurred whirr of events they both had found themselves on the ground, Aringoth wildly flailing about his dagger trying to get any sort of strike against her, and Lucca desperately trying to crawl away. 

She needed something, anything! She had thought about trying to use her own dagger, but she was also trying to do her best to uphold her promise to the guild and not kill anyone, let alone the owner of this estate that was supposedly necessary to their employer. She desperately reached out behind her to try and find something that would be able to fend off her attacker, when her hand grabbed onto something cold and metal. She quickly raised the object above her head and, without thinking, brought it down with much force on Aringoth's head.

It took a moment for the panic to sink in in the pit of her stomach as she stared at Aringoth’s unmoving body.  _ Oh no oh no! _ She had tried to find some form of pulse but to her dismay Aringoth was dead.

She didn’t have time to realize the full repercussions of her actions before she heard the trodding of footsteps coming closer, and about to enter the room.

 

The Mercenaries burst through the door filling into the room, only to come upon the scene of an empty room. They looked around to find any sort of notion of the man who was supposed to be giving them their pay. But they could not find anything.

“He’s not here.” the first merc mused, “I could’ve sworn I heard something.”

“Maybe he’s downstairs.” Piped up another of the mercenaries, “Probably worried about the three hives that just went up in flames a few minutes ago.”

Another Merc shook his head, “He was in here. If he left, we would have seen him.”

“Tch,” scoffed another, clearly one that had a terrible attitude about him, “He’s an elf. Who knows what sort of tricks he has up his sleeve.”

Once more they scanned about the room, still coming up with nothing, “Bastard, he payed us to keep an eye on him,” One more said, “See if we can find him outside.” He stated finally as they all seemed to file out of the room through the same way they entered.

 

Lucca waited patiently as the noises in the room seemed to die down to a deathly silence, quite literally. She had know idea what in oblivion had made her think that this was a good idea, but she had found herself crammed in the only wardrobe in Aringoth’s room, pressed up against his corpse. The worst part about it was the fact that his body was still warm, and that she could feel the blood drip through her hands as she tried to hold his head in place. Some part of her feared that he would suddenly wake up and begin talking to her, though she knew perfectly well that the man was dead.

The opened the door to the wardrobe the slightest bit, only to view whether or not the room was actually empty, then slipped out of its confines careful to make sure that Aringoth’s body didn’t fall out with her. It took a moment for her to pilfer through his pockets for what she needed, she was always clumsy when it came to this sort of thing, whether or not the person she was stealing from was actually alive or not. She made sure she grabbed the key, and whatever valuables he had on him; she was supposed to be a thief now, right? She also grabbed the dagger that he had used to attack her with, just so that she would have an extra.

Lucca was about to leave the room when something shiny caught her eye. It was the murder weapon that she had hidden in haste when she heard ther mercs coming. She picked it up and examined it closer. It was an intricate little bee statue that had appeared to be made of gold. It look expensive and valuable, despite the fact that it was covered in blood. It was probably best if she held onto this for a while, the longer she could keep all of those mercs from finding out Aringoth’s death the better.

 

When She had made it down the stairs she was shocked to find the place completely abandoned. There was not a soul in sight.  _ They probably all went outside to search for Aringoth _ , Lucca thought with a grimace. She made her way down to the safe with haste. She still had a job to do.

She cleared the safe out quickly, as well as all the valuables that lay nearby. But, to her surprise, there was a letter in the safe.  _ What could be so important? _ She unfolded the letter to read the fine lettering written inside. Her stomach dropped as she read its contents. Aringoth sold Goldenglow. Lucca squeezed her eyes shut as she rested her forehead against the safe in dismay. This was just turning into one big mess after the other.

She sighed. If this place was supposed to be so important to the employer, Mercer would want to see this. Never in her life had Lucca been more grateful for her enchanted knapsack. If she wanted any chance of making it out of here in a better state than Vex did, she would have to swim out of this place, and the letter would disintegrate in water.

With one final huff, she shoved everything back into her knapsack. Leaving the house and diving back into the cold water of the lake.

 

\-----------------------

 

Lucca entered the cistern cold, soaked, and covered in blood, but she didn’t care. She made her way over to Mercer’s desk, with a dazed look in her eye and the shambling of her feet.

“You’re back.” Mercer said in a gruff voice.

Lucca simply nodded, not making eye contact with the guild master.

“With good news, I hope?” The sneer of Mercer’s mouth made it seem like he was about ready to kill Lucca on the spot if  she said anything other than what he wanted to here.

Lucca silently slid her knapsack from off her shoulders and pulled out each item that she had found inside Aringoth’s safe one at a time. With each item the look on Mercer’s face became more and more pleased, glancing over each valuable with fervor.

“Good job,” He said, though his tone made it seem like her work was only adequate.

“There’s more,” Lucca spoke quietly, her hoarse voice only worsened by the salt of the lake. She pulled out the letter she had found in the safe, tentatively handing it over to Mercer, “Aringoth sold Goldenglow.” She stated as firmly as she could with her weak voice.

Mercer looker over the letter and pressed his eyes shut as he massaged his temples with one hand, “Aringoth’s a fool to think he could get away with this.” He hissed.

This what the point where Lucca could feel something inside her chest clench as she braced herself for the yelling that she knew would happen next, “Aringoth’s dead.” She murmured quietly, her voice wavering as she spoke.

Mercer looked at her with a look of disgusted astonishment, “Excuse me?” He said, clearly not amused with the news.

“He was waiting for me in his room, like he knew I was coming.” Lucca explained, watching Mercer’s expression carefully as she spoke so that she could monitor his reaction. “I tried to to talk to him, but he came after me with a knife.”

Mercer nodded looking more frustrated than confused, “I understand.”

“It was self defense, sir.” 

“I  _ understand _ .” He hissed before standing up straight and releasing a sigh, “Go get yourself cleaned up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was really intense while writing. Like Jeez.
> 
> Still it was fun, And I hope I made it interesting for you guys, rather than it simply being another Goldenglow job.
> 
> Anyways thank you for reading another chapter! If you enjoyed it please leave kudos or comment because I'd love to hear from you, and that sort of stuff inspires me to keep writing this.


	12. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a shorter chapter, mostly exposition, but still important I think.

Lucca found that the Thieves Guild uniform was far tighter than what she was comfortable with. She had assumed that it was to help with agility and range of motion, but all of the pockets, belts, and buckles than spanned across the uniform made it feel bulky. Her one solace with the outfit was the fact that it came with its own hood.

She sat herself down at the far table in flagon, as to keep her distance far from everyone else. Her hood remained down around her shoulders, and her hair undone, as she worked her fingers through the coarse strands of her hair trying to pick out the knots and dried blood. It didn’t seem like she was paying much attention to the world around her, she was simply focused on the one measly task in front of her.

She didn’t want to admit it. But Aringoth’s death was hitting her hard: harder than it should. It most certainly wasn’t her first kill, and it probably wouldn’t be her last. But that didn’t keep her from being affected by it all the same. Perhaps it was the vulnerability that she felt in the act. Who knows when the last time was that she had felt so uncomposed.

“Lucca!”

Lucca jerked as a hand waved in front of her face. She looked over to Rune who had decided to sit at her table, “Sorry,” She mumbled pulling her hands from her hair and folding them in front of her. “What were you saying?”

Rune took a moment to look at Lucca, the corners of his mouth pulled down in concern, “I just said that your hair looked pretty down like this.” He said gesturing loosely to Lucca’s silver hair which easily hung down past her waist.

Lucca rolled her eyes at the comment as her hands went back to trying to pick the bits of dried blood out of it. “I need to cut it.” whispered wistfully, as she slowly lulled herself back into her trance.

“Are you alright? I heard the job went well.” Rune asked.

Lucca nodded, “Just tired, “ Her voice croaked out simply, fearing to give any more away.

Rune grimaced at the sound of Lucca’s voice, “You sound awful.”

Lucca could only give him a wistful smile, which she hoped had somehow shown through her mask. It hurt to talk much more than a few simple words, and any conversation would probably do more harm than good for her at this point.

“Perhaps you should turn in early for the night.” Rune suggested, “If you want, there’s a spare bed in the cistern.” He pointed back to the wardrobe that hid the passage into the Thieves Guild Sanctum.

Normally, Lucca would prefer her room at the Bee and Barb, but she felt so exhausted that she didn’t think she could make up the ladder out of this place. But she honestly wasn’t sure if she was comfortable enough to actually sleep in the cistern. But a bed seemed much better compared to keeping herself awake in the flagon all through the night. “I think I’ll do that.” She whispered slowly getting up from the table.

It felt like she shambled past every other member in the Flagon as her movements felt lethargic and sounds around her seemed to blend together into one cacophonous noise. Somehow she wandered her way and back into the cistern of the guild. She found what she assumed to be the spare bed, because it was the only one whose nightstand and chest were barren.

She fell into the bed in a slump refusing to move once she found herself lying down. She didn’t realize quite how exhausted she felt until she found herself laying down. Every muscle in her body seemed to relax as sleep came over her in waves, each one making her feel as though she was sinking further and further into the bed until she found herself in deep sleep.

 

\---------------

 

Brynjolf entered the Flagon frustrated and rather angry. He approached the tables with a gruff attitude yanking a chair from Delvin’s table and seating himself down.

“Yeash, Bryn.” Delvin said, gulping down another swig from the tankard he held tightly in his hand. “How badly did this last job go?”

Brynjolf groaned. This last job had him running circles to try and shake the guard, and he hadn’t managed to get himself anywhere near the mark he was supposed to get, “I refuse to believe that this is a curse.” Brynjolf grumbled as he glared over in Delvin’s direction. This was the fourth job this week that had turned sour for him, and frankly selling faulty potions was making more money for the guild than him completing actual jobs.

“Well we can’t be all that cursed. Vex is pissed, but the little lass just came back successful from Goldenglow.”

“What?” Brynjolf exclaimed glancing around in disbelief for the woman in question.

Delvin had mischievous look in his eye as watched Brynjolf look for Lucca in vain. “She was just over there talking to Rune,” Delvin said finally pointing over to the far table in the room, “Of course, she didn’t seem much herself, not that I blame her.”

Brynjolf felt his eyebrows furrow in confusion, “What?” He asked, failing to receive clarification on the subject.

“Course, the bloody elf had it coming, now didn’t he?” Delvin continued, speaking his mind as though he really didn’t care who was listening or not. “He was already on bad terms with Maven when he cut us off. This last stunt just sunk the nail in the coffin, literally.”

Brynjolf couldn’t following what Delvin was saying at all, and he wasn’t in the mood to try and follow down this silly rabbit trail. Brynjolf grabbed the tankard from Delvin’s hand and slammed it down onto the wood of the table between them, “Delvin. What. Happened?”

Delvin looked genuinely shocked, “You mean you didn’t hear?” He asked, somewhat dumbfounded at the prospect, “Aringoth sold Goldenglow.”

Brynjolf took a moment to think through the revelation, “The fool.” He mumbled, “He has idea Maven’s wrath when she learns she’s been cut out from a deal.”

“Well it’s a good thing he’s dead, then. Isn’t it?”

“What?!”  Brynjolf spat, a new anger flaring in his chest. That was their one rule. Their one singular rule, and she broke it.

“Well don't go blaming the lass, Bryn.” Delvin tried to reason, “She’s already explained what happened to Mercer, an he didn’t seem to bothered by it, did he?”

For some reason Delvin’s statement didn’t sit well in Brynjolf’s mind. Mercer condoned this? One rule. One rule that had been the core of this guild since as long as anyone can remember. But he supposed if the Guild Master allowed it, as much as he disagreed with the thought, he would respect the Guild Master’s wishes.

“Was easy enough to cover anyway.” Delvin mused once more, “The man surrounded himself with enough mercenaries, and our little lass got in and out with anyone so much as battin’ an eye in her direction.” Delvin let out a guttural laugh that easily filled the chambers of the flagon, “I dare say, you found a keeper, Bryn. She’ll do right by the guild, I can feel it.”

Brynjolf hoped Delvin was right in that statement. But Brynjolf himself was still not sure. There was still something unsettling about Lucca’s guarded personality. She was hiding something. But, then again, Brynjolf supposed everyone in the guild was. Still, it didn’t sit well with him, “Where is she now?”

Delvin raised an eyebrow quizzically, “Oh? Sorry, Bryn, but I think she’s already turned in for the night.”

“Of course she has,” Brynjolf sighed, “I think I’ll follow suit.” He said, rising up from the table.

“Night, Bryn.” Delvin said simply, with a devilish smirk on his face.

“Night.”

 

Brynjolf entered the cistern ready to simply fall into his bed and fall asleep, until he walked past a practically seething Vex, who was stewing in her bed.

“Look at her.” Spat Vex, who thrust her chin in the direction of one of the spare beds in the cistern. “Sleeping soundly without a care in the world.”

Brynjolf looked over in the direction where Vex was staring intently. He could barely recognise the person asleep in the bed, had it not been for Vex’s sour displacement for her. So he could only assume the person in question was Lucca.

She laid with her back to them, not in her usual garb but in a thieves guild uniform that oddly suited her, which was most of the reason why Brynjolf didn’t recognise her at first. Or perhaps it was her silver hair that laid undone and sprawled against the sheets of the bed like silver waves against the rocks of the shores of skyrim.

“Oh stop gawking, you!” Vex hissed at Brynjolf using a hand to swipe at his side in a light attack, “Join me in being angry at her!”

“You’re just jealous that she was able to complete what you failed,” Brynjolf playfully chided, only to receive a deathly side glare from Vex.

“You and I both know she botched the job,” Vex grumbled, “A dead body is bad for business no matter whose it is.”

“Aye, that I know.” Brynjolf said quietly underneath his breath.

Vex sat silent for several moments, content to just stare and let her hatred seep out through her gaze. It was a quality of Vex’s that Brynjolf didn’t think he’d ever be able to understand, the ability to deal with her anger quietly. Vex could bite back her distaste and continue on with her day normally, Brynjolf had seen it first hand with every interaction between her and Delvin he had witnessed.

“Hah!” Vex laughed suddenly, “Look, she still wears her mask! Even when she sleeps.”

Brynjolf glanced back over to where Lucca was sleeping to see what she meant. Lucca had rolled onto her back, the black cloth of her mask clearly visible, even from this distance. Infact, she was tossing quite a bit, and her chest heaved in such a way that it didn’t seem natural.

“Is she alright?” Brynjolf asked not intending to receive an answer.

In a jolt, Lucca was suddenly upright with a hand clasp around her throat. The expression she wore in her eyes was that of terror, as if she just awoke from night terrors that attack the soul. But it appeared that her terror did not end when she awoke, as she was quick to clamber out of the bed and into the training room, where she seemed to prefer to take refuge.

Brynjolf found himself quick to follow after her, crossing the distance of the cistern in haste. Her entered the training room only to be graced with the sound of hacking and coughing as though she was coughing everything that was inside her body. He entered the room to find Lucca standing in the corner with her back to him, her silver hair falling over her shoulders in disarray, as her frame practically doubled over and heaved the air from her lungs.

“Lass?” Brynjolf called out, tentatively nearing slowly.

She turned her head slightly to glance back at him. Only when he could make out the silhouette of  her nose and mouth did he notice the discarded mask on the ground next to her feet.

“Stay away!” She cried between fits, her voice hoarse from her coughing fit.

Brynjolf took another tentative step forward again, “Lass, just tell me what I can do help.”

“Just STAY AWAY!” She cried once more, her voice cracking and losing its pitch.

And so they stood there what seemed like ages. Brynjolf standing around helplessly, not sure of what in Oblivion he could possibly do, and Lucca crouched in the corner at the most vulnerable that he had seen her. Even after the fit had seemed to stop, she stood there facing the corner simply trembling, the napkin she held loosely in her hand stained a sickly red.

“Shit!” Brynjolf heard her whimper under her breath as she leaned her head on the cool stone of the wall. She knelt down her trembling hand reaching down for the mask that lay on the floor, but her fingers could grab the material.

Brynjolf picked up the mask off the ground and held it out for her without word. To which she turned to grab it from him, using the bloodied napkin she held to cover her nose and mouth. “Thank you.” She said quietly in a voice that sounded weak and pathetic.

Brynjolf looked over the woman in front of him. When she had walked into Riften just a few days prior, she stood tall and had an air of pride around her. Now the woman before him seemed fractured, scared and uncomposed. “Are you alright?” He asked trying to catch the gaze of her ice blue eyes.

Lucca’s gaze remained trained on the floor as she shook her head. She turned her back to Brynjolf once more to return her mask to its rightful place. “I haven’t had a fit like that for so long.” She said turning back around to face him.

“So you have dealt with this before?” Brynjolf asked, though the idea seemed concerning.

Lucca nodded, “I just made a stupid decision in Goldenglow.”

“Like killing Aringoth.”

The words fell out of his mouth without his meaning to, and what ever vulnerability Lucca held in her demeanor hardened like ice, and the snarl on her face showed through the fabric of her mask. “Thank you. I needed someone to reaffirm what I already knew.”  She stated flatly, stifling a cough as she spoke.

She turned shuffling her feet quickly to leave.

Brynjolf grabbed her arm before she could leave, “Where are you going?”

“To the nearest Alchemist.”

“Elgrim’s is closed at this hour.”

“Then I’ll wait.” She hissed yanking her arm from his grip and leaving the room entirely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, a bit short. But, I hope that it does go to show how relationships play in this story. Also shows a bit more of the consequences of the voice.
> 
> Anyhoo... Thank you for joining me in another Chapter! If you enjoyed this one feel free to leave kudos or a comment as I would love to hear form you!


	13. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For those who wanted more Lucca Bryn interaction...
> 
>  
> 
> You're Welcome.

Lucca entered the Flagon the next morning in a much more chipper mood than when she had left the previous night. “Oh Delvin!” She sang as she approached the Breton’s table. “I have a gift for you.”

Delvin raised an eyebrow at Lucca, “Is it a beautiful silver-haired lass with a feisty attitude?” he asked sarcastically.

Lucca rolled her eyes as she seated herself in the seat across from him, slinging her knapsack off her shoulders, “No… better.”

“You’re kiddin yourself if you think that there’s anything better than that.” Delvin said sitting back in his seat waiting for Lucca to produce said item.

Lucca rummaged around the contents of her knapsack. “Then I’m a fool.” She said as she placed the Golden Bee statue on the table between them.

Delvin looked over it carefully, reaching out to analyse the statue thoroughly, “I’ve been looking for this little beauty. But this one’s got blood on it.”

“Yes… well, murder weapons do tend to have blood on them.” 

Lucca watched as the eyes bulged from Delvin’s head. “You killed Aringoth… with this?” He asked gesturing to the statue to get the full effect.

“It was more of a desperate act of instinct.” Lucca mumbled, as she grabbed the statue from Delvin’s hand and placed it back onto the table, “So… how much?”

“How much?” Delvin asked, “I thought this was a gift.”

Lucca sighed as she rolled her eyes in response, “I’m not asking for much.” She said. She dragged the statue across the table closer to her and held it in her deathly grip. “I need a job.”

“A job?”

“Yes,” Lucca reiterated once more, “A job, nothing up close and personal, just a job.”

“Sorry little missy,” Delvin leaned back in his chair, “You need to talk to Vex for that. She handles the burglary jobs.”

A low groan fell out of Lucca’s mouth at the thought, “C’mon Delvin, please!” She pleaded, “I just…” She stopped with a sigh not wanting to admit what she was about to. “I just need something to get my mind of Goldenglow.” She said in a hushed voice so that only Delvin could hear.

The look on his face became solemn and understanding, “I didn’t realize that that whole business bothered ya.”

Bothered her. No. That whole business didn’t bother her, or at least it shouldn’t. Lucca knew herself well; her hands weren’t clean. Her hands weren't clean at  **all** . So why did she simply want to forget the entire experience? It doesn’t matter. What matters is the fact that she justs wants to forget.

“Look, I need a job to do.” She said matter of factly, trying to avoid the topic at hand. Her hand reached out for the statue pushing it forward across the table, “And in return you can take this away, so I never have to see it again.”

Delvin reluctantly took the statue in his grasp and held it at his edge of the table, his fingers tapping absentmindedly against its golden surface. “I do have a job,” He said with a defeated sigh, “Bryn just gave it to me this morning.”

Lucca rejoiced silently at the sound of those words.  _ Thank the Divines! _

“This job is a special request from someone very powerful in Whiterun, see?” Delvin begun to explain, “I’m only tellin’ you about this ‘cause I think you can handle it. The guild needs for this job to go smoothly, no hiccups, no nothing. Smooth as a baby’s bum. Get this to go right , and we just may bet some holdin’ back over in Whiterun.”

Lucca nodded, “I can do it blindfolded if I have to. I just need the job.”

Delvin let out a hearty laugh, “There’s just one small detail you need to know first.”

“What?”

“It’s a two man job.”

 

\------------

 

Lucca found herself in the training room. She was beginning to think that she spent way too much time in the training room, as that was often where she would go when she needed be away  from others. Not that she was entirely alone in the training room. Niruin was to her right practicing his marksmanship, much to Lucca’s distaste.

However, this time Lucca had abandoned her knives and simply resorted to her fists. She had worn thick leather gloves as she beat upon the thick wooden head of the dummy in front of her. She liked to imagine she was punching him in his stupidly handsome square jaw with each hit. Just imagining it made her feel some what better, like it had when he had forced her to practice her archery for hours on end.

“I heard from Delvin,” Spoke up an all to familiar voice belonging to the last person that Lucca wanted to see.

She stopped what she was doing, looking to the ceiling and trying to keep her annoyance with the situation in control. She looked over to the auburn-haired nord, not entirely sure if the displeasure was showing through her mask or not, but from the look on his face it probably was.

“Get your stuff.” He stated simply with no emotion, “We leave now.”

Lucca dared not move as he turned his back and sauntered out of the room. She was mildly certain she hated him.

 

\--------------

 

They met at the stables in deathly silence and glares, more or less. The one who was doing most of the glaring was Lucca, and only when Brynjolf managed to catch her eye.

Brynjolf saddled his horse as Lucca talked to the stable boy to try and get one of her own. He couldn’t hear precisely what she was saying to the boy, but he didn’t imagine that she had much of a way with words, from his own experience.

“Alright, Thank you very much!” Lucca said backing away from the stable boy with a pleasant tone in her voice. Much to Brynjolf’s surprise she walked over to the horse that they were talking about, and, without paying single coin to the stable boy, mounted it’s saddle.

She reared the horse and rode up next to Brynjolf’s side with as much control over the horse as if it had been her own for many years.

“What in Nirn did you say to the boy?” Brynjolf asked his face contorted to a look of astoundment.

Lucca gave him a side look that was unwelcoming, “Trade secret.” She stated simply as she clicked riding forward to go south on the road to Falkreath.

“You’re going the wrong direction, lass” Brynjolf called out pointing to the road going North.

Lucca halted and looked in the direction that Brynjolf pointed, “Not a good idea.” She stated simply, “People are saying dragons are attacking along the roads of Windhelm.”

“You don’t honesty believe that, do you?” Brynjolf laughed, “The Dragons have been mostly docile fo seven years.”

“But there was a time when they weren’t.” Lucca retorted back harshly, “There was a time, not too long ago, when they attacked cities and burned families alive.”

There was an air of silence for a moment between the two before Brynjolf finally broke it. “You sound as though you speak from experience.” He said quietly.

“I’d rather not re-live my experience with dragons.” She said simply, refusing to go on any more about topic, “Docile or not, it’s best to avoid them entirely.”

And with that it was decided. Lucca and Brynjolf headed off down the road to Falkreath in continued silence.

 

It was hours of traveling down the road with little more than a few parse words spoken between the two of them and the sound of hoofbeats on the gravel path below them. They traveled as far as they could before the sun threatened to dip below the horizon and each of their horses had slowed, their heads bowing further as they tried to walk forward. Though they were near Falkreath, they both feared pushing their mounts further and worsening their exhaustion, so Brynjolf an Lucca chose to set up  camp for the night.

Lucca sat by the fire, prodding the burning logs with a stick as to make sure the warmth wouldn’t suffocate. Brynjolf sat further away, resting his back against a large rock, and resting his legs from a long day’s ride, simply listening to the crackling of the fire.

“What is this job exactly?” Lucca said, breaking the silence. She made sure to keep her voice calm and calculated as she spoke, and stared only into the dancing flames in front of her, refusing to look up in the slightest.

Brynjolf leaned his head back and closed his eyes, trying to recall the details of the job itself, “We were paid to rob a rich man blind.” He replied with a sigh.

“Then why does this job require two people?” 

“Because,” Brynjolf explained, “The only thing this man cares about more than himself, is his wealth, and will call the guard at the slightest sign of trouble.”

Lucca nodded in understanding, “So one of us needs to be the distraction…” She says, though Brynjolf doesn’t really know if it was directed at him. Lucca laughed slightly underneath her breath, a noise that he could hardly hear, “So one of us could easily screw the other.” 

That didn’t sit well with Brynjolf. “What do you mean, lass?”

“Oh. Nothing. Just, say I play the distraction, who's to say that I don’t simply reveal to this man that he was being robbed right at that moment. Or who’s to say that you don’t simply tipped the guards in my direction, if you played distraction?” She said hypothetically, “A job like this requires a lot of trust between partners.”

“And you’re saying you don’t trust me, lass?”

“I know for a fact that you don’t trust me.” She responded rather bleakley.

He couldn’t deny that statement. There was simply too much that he didn’t know about her, and the fact the she was insistent on keeping it a secret only made him even more suspicious. That coupled with the recent incident at Goldenglow-- She was right, he certainly didn’t trust this woman with his life.

“Then how about this?” He asked as he stood up from his seat and walked over to sit by her by the fire. “You tell me a story about yourself that you wouldn’t tell anyone, and I’ll tell you a story about myself.”

Lucca glared at him with skeptic eyes.

“To foster trust.” He reasoned.

“I don’t see how that fosters trust.” She said the disbelief still clear in her look.

“It fosters trust because…” Brynjolf began, “If I can trust you enough to tell you this information, then I can trust you to have my back during this job.” He felt like he was telling that to reassure himself more than her.

Lucca nodded, though, clearly understanding the logic behind the reasoning. “You go first.” She said quietly as she prodded the fire once more

Brynjolf had to think. He didn’t know what about his secrets that he was willing to give away. If he lived in a perfect world, he wouldn’t have to give away any of them. But the prospect of hearing one of her stories was too enticing. With a sigh and a hand through his auburn hair he finally knew what story to tell, “I once met the dragonborn.”

He watched as Lucca stiffened and stared at him in disbelief, or was it confusion? “Did you?” She asked, though her voice seemed troubled at the thought.

“Well of course the entire guild will tell you of the time she came to us searching for some old man who was down in the ratways.” He mused with a small grin on his face, “Everyone likes to say that she wouldn’t be as much of a hero if it hadn’t been for us. It’s one of the few prides that this guild can still hand onto nowadays.”

Lucca hummed in understanding as her gaze returned to the fire as she mumbled something that Brynjolf couldn’t hear.

“But I met her on my way to a job once.” He said, that peaked her interest once more as she glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “It was a job in Solitude, though what it was exactly I can’t remember. I do remember, however, riding down the road and hearing the deafening roar of a dragon in the distance. I remember thinking, ‘just my luck I’d run into a dragon’一”

“And  _ you _ wanted to try your luck again on the other road today?” Lucca interrupted.

“Can I finish my story?” Brynjolf responded in kind, mildly annoyed by the interruption.

“Sorry, Sorry.” She said as she raised her hands, but her tone kept the same mischievous demeanor, “Continue.”

Brynjolf gave another kurt sigh as he continued, “So I was thinking ‘Just my luck.’ To be honest, I didn’t really believe that the dragons had come back until there was one just above my head.I don’t think I’ve ever more scared in my life than when I came face to face with that creature. It was massive; its head alone could rival the size of my horse. I could feel the heat coming off of its breath. I honestly thought I was going to die.

“And then, behind me, I hear shouting. I didn’t understand what they were saying though, it just sounded like a bunch of noise to me. But suddenly, there she was, right in front of me. Brunette hair that flew wildly in the wind, shimmering gold in the light to match her elven armour. She was, by all rights, stunning. And when the fight was done she was surrounded by this halo of -- Well I guess it was that dragon’s soul, if what they say is true. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more beautiful sight, especially when she turned to me, her own face cut and scored to all oblivion, and dazzling smile.”

Brynjolf smiled to himself as he recalled the picture in his mind, but when he looked at Lucca he was met with a gaze that seemed sorrowful. Brynjolf then directed his gaze back down towards the dirt before continuing once more, “I didn’t believe it when they had said she’d been killed. She was supposed to be a legendary hero for us all, somehow I didn’t think she could ever die.”

“And you haven’t told this story to anyone else?” Lucca said softly.

“Please,” Brynjolf responded, putting the bravado back into his voice, in an attempt to lift the mood of the conversation, “I have an image to uphold.”

“Right, right.” Lucca replied, trying to stifle a her own laugh, “Dastardly thief and wooer of Women.”

“Where’d you get that last one?” Brynjolf asked a devious grin splitting across his face.

Lucca rolled her eyes, “It was an educated guess.” 

Brynjolf laughed at the statement, and they shared a small moment of joined amusement before he asked, “So what about you?”

“Me?” Lucca held a hand to her chest feigning ignorance of the situation.

“We’re swapping stories, lass. I’ve told you mine, now tell me yours.”

“Here I was, hoping you’d forget.” Lucca sighed before humming in contemplation, “A story about me huh?” She mused almost wistfully.

Brynjolf nodded, expectantly waiting for her to begin.

“I… “ She began, “Was… a Dibellan priestess.”

Brynjolf had to take a moment,  _ what? _ “Like what Haelga does?” He said his voice cracking at the thought.

Lucca’s eyes widened at the question, “Oh  _ Divines _ , NO!” She cried waving her hands in front of her to try and banish the thought from her head entirely, “What Haelga does-- What she  _ claims  _ to do in Dibella’s name is  _ sacrilege _ ! No religion, under  _ any _ divine condones or encourages that behavior. Dibella, contrary to what ever Haelga would have you belief, is the goddess of art and beauty. Some of which could be classified as  _ that _ but she’s-- Dibella is so much more than just-” 

Brynjolf watched as Lucca shuddered at the thought. He had to admit, it was amusing to she her so flustered. “Dibella is…” Brynjolf started trying to lead her one to continue his grin returning to his face.

It took a moment for Lucca to regain her composure and shoot him a disapproving glare, which he felt was more playful than it was mean, “Dibella is the goddess of art and beauty, meaning all forms of art and beauty, music, painting, sculpture, even the simple beauty you’d find walking along in nature. All of the beauty you see in day to day life, even your experience with-- you know, _ her _ \-- those are the blessings of Dibella.”

“May I ask why you were a priestess?”

Lucca paused, the fervor in her eyes draining as she sighed. “I was in a bad place.” She said simply, “I was in a bad place and I wanted to be alone. The temple of Dibella in Markarth closed itself to any and all outsiders, so when they chose to welcome me… I gladly accepted.”

“What happened?” Brynjolf asked, keeping his voice low and quiet.

Lucca took in one solid deep breath, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Lass,”

“I Don’t--” She said before Brynjolf could say anything. She closed her eyes and let out her deep breath as to try and calm herself, “Not today, atleast.” She said weakly, the pride that she had had just moments before disappearing and show a rare moment of weakness for her.

Brynjolf knew better than to speak this time and simple nodded in understanding. Instead he opted to stand up and return himself to the rock he had seated himself against before, and he fell asleep in their silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> awwwwww Brynjolf thought Lucca was pretty.... ^u^  
> Granted he was talking about the Dragonborn, and doesn't realize that the Dragonborn is sitting right next to him... Awkward! 
> 
> Anyways thank you for joining me on another chapter! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it! If you did, feel free to leave a kudos or a comment because I would love to hear from you!


	14. Chapter 13

It was nearly another full day of traveling on horseback before the two even neared the great city of Whiterun. Riding down the road and seeing the walls that surrounded the city was a welcome sight for the two, who were sore and ached from their travels.

“Are we doing the job tonight? Or are we resting for a night and doing it tomorrow.” Lucca asked and she rode side by side with Brynjolf.

“The faster we do the job the better.” Brynjolf responded, whom simply wanted nothing more than to get the job over with. Given the guild recent track record, Lucca’s somewhat success aside, he had a feeling that something was bound to go wrong.

“Alright.” Lucca nodded with no hint of disagreement to the statement, “Who’s doing what though.” She asked, reminding Brynjolf that he hadn’t actually explained much about the job itself, “Are you the decoy while I’m the thief? Or maybe…” She  glanced over to Brynjolf with a mischievous look in her eye that probably matched a hidden grin that was covered by her mask, “We could mix things up and I’m the distraction.”

“You’ll be the distraction?” Brynjolf asked with a huff of disbelief in his voice.

“Yeah and  _ you _ can put your  _ own _ ass on the line this time.” She said defiantly.

“And you think you can handle keeping someone distracted for that long?”

“Oh believe me,” She responded once more in a sultry voice that made chills run down Brynjolf’s spine, “I can be  _ very _ distracting.”

Brynjolf looked over to her, not sure of what to make of the statement, only to find that fallen back and rode slightly behind him looking out to the fields of the Whiterun hold and paid little to know attention to what he was doing.

“Who are we robbing anyway?” Lucca asked in the normal clarity of her own voice,

Brynjolf face forward once more, returning his focus to the destination in front of them, “A man by the name of Nazeem, he owns Wintersand Manor just outside of the city.”

There was a solid moment of silence before Lucca erupted in laughter behind him. The sound was so unexpected that Brynjolf had to turn around just to see that Lucca had doubled over on her horse with a joyful laughter that he felt was rather out of character for her.

“What’s so funny, lass?” Brynjolf asked mildly amused at the sight of Lucca.

“Nothing , nothing!” She wheezed through fits of giggles, “It’s just一Oh that bastard is finally going to get it!”

“Oh? You know of him?”

“I know that he is one of many arrogant assholes in Whiterun.” Lucca stated, her laughter dying down finally, “Oh please let me be the one to distract him. I want to be there to see his face once he realizes.”

The thought made Brynjolf laugh under his breath as the pair neared the stables, he could imagine the sheer look of terror on the target’s face when he would find out, and the thought of it was priceless. “You sure you can handle it?” He had asked again, simply to make sure as they both clambered of their horses and guided them to the stables.

Lucca waved a dismissive hand, “Yeah, I can handle it.” She said as she guided her own horse to her respective stall, tossing the stable boy a few septims, “I just need a minute to get dressed.” She grabbed the knapsack from her horse’s saddle and held it closely to her chest as she wandered out of the stable area and somewhere else, though Brynjolf wasn’t entirely sure where.

 

Several minutes had past and Brynjolf had chosen to simply wait, especially since he didn’t know where the lass was to go and tell her to hurry up. He sat on the wooden fence around the stables, making sure that he had everything he could possibly need for a successful heist. Plenty of lockpicks, space for whatever goods he’d chose to nab, even a few potions of invisibility, if everything went sideways.

“Hold onto this for me, will you?” piped up a familiar voice from behind him.

“Took your sweet time, didn’t you, lass?” He responded as he turned around to face her. Only, the woman behind him was not the woman he was expecting. The woman before him had darker, more ruddy skin. It looked like the dirt was permanently caked into her skin. Her hair, ebony black and tied loosely behind her head. Her eyes shown a dazzling green, yet still set  in her face in a familiar dark and tired way. She wore a bar-maids dress that hugged the curves of her body and seemed far too revealing. In her outstretched hand she dangled an old knapsack from the tips of her fingers, motioning for Brynjolf to take.

A knowing smirk graced the woman’s lips. “Relax, it’s just me.” She said as she bounced the knapsack on her fingers to bring Brynjolf’s focus back towards it.

“Lass?” He had failed to hide the shock and confusion in his voice. As he absentmindedly grabbed the bag from her hands.

“Don’t panic,” She joked with a laugh under her breath, “This is not my actual face and body.”

“Well I gathered that.” Brynjolf said, slightly perturbed this new appearance, “How?”

“My strongest school of study, Illusion.” She said, her pride over the subject clearly showing through her open expression.

“Well if you could do this… then why do you wear the mask?”

The pride suddenly fell from her face, “Maintaining a spell like this for long periods of time is exhausting.” She explained quietly, as if the simple fact was something to be ashamed of.

Brynjolf nodded, he supposed he could understand, though it had sounded like she had tried to use this method at some point. Brynjolf decided to change the topic back to the subject at hand, “Do you know where to go?” He had asked.

Lucca scoffed, “Oh I know exactly where to find that bastard.” she said as she began to walk towards the front gates of Whiterun, “You do what you need to do.” She waved a dismissive hand at him. “When you’re done, I’ll be at the Bannered Mare.”

Brynjolf watched her as she made her way down the path to enter the city, her appearance still unsettled him a bit. It felt like her personality was stuck in the wrong body, and it didn’t suit her at all.

He shook the thought from his mind, he needed to focus. He turned his face to look towards the proud manor that could be seen in the distance. 

It was a tall manor, displaying opulence with every detail carved in its walls. Though the manor was nothing compared to the great city in size, it rivaled in the shear number of guards that protected its riches. Brynjolf could spot at least three men making the rounds around the land that the house stood proudly upon.

Brynjolf sighed to himself, “Better get this over with,” He muttered underneath his breath, as he took off towards Wintersand Manor.

 

\------------

 

Several hours had past, and the stars twinkled in the sky. Brynjolf strode proudly down the road, the weight in knapsack instilling a sense of pride with each step he took. He was rather shocked with how smoothly the entire endeavour went. Perhaps the guild’s luck was turning after all.

He traveled down the road, entering the city gates of Whiterun with a proud grin smattered across his lips. Perhaps the lass was some sort of good luck charm, seeing as the jobs related to her lately had been seeing success, of a sort. Still, the idea that their luck was changing for the better at all was a pleasant thought to Brynjolf. 

Brynjolf approached the Bannered Mare to find it lit alight with drunken laughter and banter pouring out from its very image. Brynjolf had believed that in some part that was probably Lucca’s doing. He entered the tavern to the common rabble and quiet music. Brynjolf scanned the area in search for Lucca, but was rather disappointed when he couldn’t find her strikingly white hair among the faces in the rabble. 

However, a snide and easily recognisable voice piped up over top of everything, “Well, perhaps this is all a bit over your head.”

Brynjolf looked over to see the very owner of the manor he had just looted. He sat proudly on at the table in the corner of the main area, a disturbing grin showing off his unnaturally white teeth as his hands held the dark haired beauty that sat on his knee.

Reality hit Brynjolf like a brick. He completely didn’t recognise the Lucca without a mask, her dark clothing一 well he supposed that little spell really did its job. There was something sickening about the scene in front of him, but Brynjolf couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“Where are you going, little lamb?” Nazeem called out as the dark-haired lass slipped off of his lap. His fingers curled around her waist as he attempted to try and pull her back towards him.

“Your cup is empty.” She mused as she dangled Nazeem’s tankard precariously from her fingertips, “I thought, I ought to go get a refill.” Nazeem seemed to be satisfied at the thought and let her slip from his grasp.

Lucca neared where Brynjolf sat at the main counter of the tavern, placing the tankard she held in her hand on the counter in front of her, waving down the redguard lady who was sweeping the floor behind it. Brynjolf leaned over across counter as to get her attention, “Job’s done.” He murmured quietly. 

He almost thought she didn’t hear him with the way that she acted aloof to the situation. She simply jutted her chin forward slightly as she grabbed the refilled tankard and casually sauntered back to Nazeem’s side. Brynjolf couldn’t hear what they were talking about, because they seemed to be talking through hushed tones. But something told Brynjolf that he knew exactly what they were talking about, especially when Lucca led Nazeem by the hand to some far room upstairs. The thought of what they could be doing up there put Brynjolf off more than it should. Perhaps it was because she was a new recruit and in some way Brynjolf felt responsible for her. Whatever the reason, it was unsettling.

Brynjolf didn’t have to sit in his discomfort of the thought for long though, because Lucca came stumbling down the stairs just a few minutes later, her darkened hair disheveled and a disturbed look on her face. 

“Enjoy yourself?” Brynjolf said as Lucca neared him once more with a stiffness in her step.

Lucca grabbed the bottle of mead that Brynjolf had forgotten had been placed in front of him, and threw it back with a retch, “I am never doing that again,” She said, her nose scrunching in disgust at the thought, “I still can't the taste out of my mouth.” She said with another swig from the bottle.

That was an image that Brynjolf didn’t want in his head, “Not a fan of being the distraction then, lass?” He asked, trying to keep the tone of his voice controlled.

“No.” Lucca rolled her eyes, “I’m not a fan of that self centered bastard trying to get lucky with me.” 

“From where I was sitting, lass.” Brynjolf started, “It looked like you were the one trying to get somewhere.” 

Lucca spat out what she had in her mouth trying to stifle the choking that came from her reaction. “WHAT!?” She wheezed, “You thought?!” She stopped herself from saying anything more, as a look of disbelief graced her face. “I was just…”

“A little loss for words?” Brynjolf jested, she may have been disguised to look like someone else, but he couldn’t help but laugh at the face she was making. He imagined, that that was something entirely her peeking through this mask she was trying to wear.

Lucca glared at him, “Lets just head out.” She huffed as she pushed off from the counter and headed toward the door to the outside.

Brynjolf made no reply. He simply trailed behind her following suit.

 

\-------------

 

Lucca stepped out into the brisk night air, her breath coming out in plumes of white mist, slowly rising towards the sky.

“Your bag.”

Lucca glanced behind her only to find Brynjolf dangling her knapsack off of his fingers in a similar fashion as she had done before. “Thanks.” She said quietly as she grabbed the knapsack and slung it over her shoulders. She looked around Whiterun, it had felt like it had been forever since she last set foot in this city.

She felt a hand lay on her shoulder, “Are you alright there, lass?” Brynjolf asked quietly. She must’ve looked troubled, she kept forgetting that she wasn’t wearing her mask.

She pulled her shoulder away from Brynjolf's grasp, “I’m fine.” She stated rather curtly, “I was just thinking that this place hasn’t changed much.” She looked around at the old houses and the city, until something caught her eye, “Though that’s new…” She pointed and begun walking towards a statue that stood across from the gildergreen.

“That?” Brynjolf said as they approached the statue, “That’s been there for years.”

Lucca had to stare at the statue in order to fully understand what it was. They had carved the statue carved in intricate detail, with gold defining the details. It was of a woman, dressed warmly in traditional nordic garb, as she stabbed a large great sword into the skull of a dragon, whose skeleton coiled around her feet, “Isn’t she an Imperial?” She had asked, her voice going into a sort of deapan, “Why did they dress her in Nordic clothing.”

“She is a legendary  _ nord _ hero.” Brynjolf said matter-of-factly. He stood beside her, his arms folded proudly against his chest as they both stared at the statue.

“It looks like Talos.” She responded, not even bothering to hide the distaste in her tone. Her gently rested on the dragon head that rested at the statue’s feet, it was much smaller than an actual dragon’s skull, which made the statue fell that much larger, almost god-like.

“Do you dislike all legendary dragonborns now, lass?” Brynjolf had asked. She couldn’t see his face, but she knew that treading in the way of religion was a touchy subject, especially with the war.

She sighed as she looked back towards Brynjolf, “What was her name?” She asked, her voice wavering a bit more than she would have liked it to.

Brynjolf’s brow furrowed not understanding where the question came from, “Sorry?” 

“Nothing.” Lucca responded her voice going back to its curt dejection. She stared up to the carved face of the statue, its face expressionless with its eyes closed, like it had found serene peace. “It’s just all of skyrim has made her out to be such a big hero, and yet I haven’t met a single person who knows her name.”

Brynjolf remained silent. Lucca imagined that it was because she was right; he didn’t know.

“Oh well.” Lucca sighed in defeat. She turned to leave, yet stopped to wait for Brynjolf to move, “Let’s leave before the guards start looking for a couple of thieves.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI GUYS!!! Sorry it took me forever to update. Long story short, school work. Cuz you know college classes do not allow for much time to work of side stuff. But hey. Also another note, my birthday is like next week, so I'll try to have another update out by then.
> 
> anyways! Thank you for reading!! How'd you like this chapter? Feel free to leave a kudos or tell me how you feel in the comments down below! I'd love to hear from you!


	15. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the really late update! this part took way longer than I thought it would, and also school. School has been happening.

The pair, Brynjolf and Lucca, left Whiterun that night wanting nothing more than to return to Riften as soon as possible.

They had traveled for most of the night before they finally made it back to Falkreath tired and weary and desperately in need of sleep between the two of them. They shambled off their horses and led them silently to the stables, the rhythmic clanking of hoofbeats following behind the dragging of boots through the gravel. Each of them had clung to their horses for support that they found trouble moving much faster when they had to relinquish their rides to the stable boy. 

Brynjolf glanced in Lucca’s direction, as she had fallen several paces behind him. She still hadn't broken the glamour, though its effects appeared to be wearing thin. The dark hair that the glamour gave her had lightened several shades, though it was nowhere near its original silver sheen. However her eyes had returned to their piercing ice blue that down brilliantly in the dark. There was something off putting and vaguely familiar about her present appearance though, he couldn't quite place his finger on it. 

Brynjolf entered Falkreath’s inn, with Lucca trudging along in tow. She was the first, however to seat herself down at one of the tables littered about the main hall without a word. Her body slumped over the table in exhaustion as her hands tried to rub the tired from her eyes. Brynjolf had taken it upon himself to secure themselves some rooms for what remained of the night. 

When he returned, he only found Lucca, barely hanging onto her consciousness, at her seat at the table. He had to restrain himself from laughing when she bolted upright with a start when he chose to sit down on the bench next to her. 

“You awake still, lass?” He had asked in more of a jesting tone than he had originally intended.

He was met with a tired groan as Lucca failed to rub the exhaustion from the dark circles underneath her eyes, “Yeah,” She yawned as she returned to resting her head in the palm of her hand, “I would give anything for a bed right about now, though.”

“Anything?” Brynjolf asked, more amused at the sight of the lass’s exhausted state.

“Yes,” Lucca said as she rolled her eyes, “You can have my firstborn son and the goat... that I will steal from the local farmboy. It’s name will be Greda. Now where is that bed?”

Brynjolf pointed in at one of the doors that the innkeeper had directed him to earlier, “Don’t you want to eat first?” He had asked as he grew painfully aware of the growing pain of his own stomach. He tried to remember the last time he ate, as far as he could tell it was sometime before they had actually arrived in Whiterun.

Lucca held a hand on her stomach, as the expression on her face seemed as though she hadn’t considered the thought until he had brought it up. “Don’t make me choose between food and sleep.” She practically whined as her nose scrunched up into face that Brynjolf didn’t feel fit her character at her.

“I’m not,” Brynjolf responded, “Eat now, and then sleep later.”

 

It took a little bit before each of them finally had a bowl of stew placed before them on the table. Brynjolf had already finished his meal, he had scarfed it down the first moment that he got. Lucca, however, took her time as she languidly brought spoonfuls of stew up to her mouth.

Brynjolf took that time to study her. It had seemed to surreal to look at her now, after becoming used to seeing her in a mask, though he had to remind himself that what he was seeing was just an illusion. However there were a few features about her that he was almost certain her magic could not cover, like the way her neutral expression seemed to be stoic and hardened from years of distraught, or the nicks and scrapes that covered her arms and hands from work or travel, or how her eyes, though normally bright and vibrant in color, always held a dull sheen that made it look as though she had witnessed horrors that he couldn’t possibly imagine.

 

“If you have questions you might as well ask them.” 

 

Brynjolf snapped out of his thoughts only to find Lucca staring at him from the corner of her eye. “You always make that face before you ask me personal questions.” Lucca spoke again in answer to Brynjolf’s unspoken confusion and returning her focus to the mostly eaten bowl of stew in front of her. “I’m just saying you might as well ask them. Though I can’t promise that I will answer.”

Brynjolf took a minute to think over the thought, it did seem as though, when they were together, he always asked questions about who she was. He had figured that it was mostly because she had intentionally shrouded her past in mystery, only giving the broadest of answers. Even when they had traded stories the previous night, he had a feeling that had only shared a part of her that seemed mostly insignificant. “May I ask why you don’t talk about yourself, Lass?” He had asked finally, though he didn’t expect much of an answer from her.

Lucca looked down, and seemed lost in thought for a moment, “I suppose…” She had said quietly, “it’s because the less I give away of myself, the less others can hurt me. People can’t betray you if you don’t give them your trust in the first place”

The nord found himself surprised about the amount of honesty she seemed to have placed in her answer. To him it had seemed as though she had spoken from a place of experience, and for some unknown reason the thought was sickening, “You’re a part of the guild now, lass.” Brynjolf said as a meager form of console, “The guild is family, they would never一”

“I’ve heard that a hundred times before.” Lucca interrupted curtly, her lip curling up in anger as she squeezed her eyes shut. Brynjolf could practically hear the growl escape from the undertones of her harsh voice, “I’ve heard it, and I don’t believe it! Perhaps you may call the guild your family, and I respect that, but that’s not the case for me.”

Brynjolf was stunned silent, for the longest moment the only noise that could be heard between them was the quiet shambling of the few straggling customers who seemed to trickle out of the inn or to their respective rooms as the wee hours of the dismal night and wee hours of the oncoming morning.

Finally Lucca broke the silence, “My apologies,” She spoke softly, her tone dark and hollow, “That outburst was uncalled for.”  She stood up from her seat her eyes fluttering over to the dim light of the rising sun streaming in through the rusty window, “I think I’ll turn myself  in for what little time I can,” She stated finally with a defeated sigh.

Brynjolf nodded and did nothing to stop her as she retreated to the room that he had previously pointed out. He simply sat as she sauntered over to the room as the last remnants of her glamour seemed to wear thin. Her hair returned to it’s completely silver sheen just as she shut the door behind her. for,” She rose from her seat with a defeated sigh as she looked out to the dim light of the rising sun streaming in through the dusty window on the wall, “I think I’ll turn myself in for whatever remains of the night.”

Brynjolf nodded and made no move to stop her, but merely watched as she retreated to the rented room that he had pointed out earlier. Her glamour seemed fade as she walked further and further away with her back towards him her hair returning to its original silver sheen, and her skin lightening to its almost ghost-like pallor just as she closed the door to her room behind her.

He felt a pang of regret for asking what he did, it seemed to do more harm in the situation than good. She sounded as though she spoke from experience; an experience of a bitter betrayal in her own past, or, regrettably, multiple. It was a thought that Brynjolf couldn’t imagine. He tried to think of how he would react if the guild had betrayed him in some way, but he couldn’t. He knew everyone in the guild, aside from Lucca herself, too well. He knew their history, their passions, their quirks; he trusted each of them with his life, and he knew that each of them trusted in him in kind. Sure there were a few who turned against the guild, who disobeyed, but they betrayed the guild itself, not the other way around.

Brynjolf ran a hand through his auburn hair. He felt as though he had opened a would that the lass may have been struggling to heal for a while. And despite having more questions than answers, he felt as though he had learned more than she was willing to let him know.

 

\----------------

 

Lucca let herself fall into the bed in the room, not bothering with anything else that needed to be done before she could let herself fall asleep. Her head spun, and she felt sick to her stomach. She didn’t want to think anymore, thinking of those times made her irrational and more angry then she ever needed. She had chosen to flee from those times after all, the distance she had placed between her and her troubles helped keep her sane in the first place.

She scoffed at herself, the Lucca of her first life would have been so disappointed with herself. The dragonborn would have faced any trouble as if it were a challenge to be conquered. But Lucca was a much different person now, and didn’t share the same ideals with her anymore. It didn’t matter anyway, Lucca wasn’t the dragonborn, not anymore, she had no obligation to live up to the standards of her first life. 

With that thought in her head she drifted off into a rather unrestful sleep.

 

\----------------

 

She awoke to find herself immersed in a swirl of colors that stretched gracefully towards the sky. Blues and purples and pinks danced with ethereal splendor around her has she wandered her serene and peaceful surroundings. She stopped for a moment and breathed in the scents surrounding her as she the warm air surrounded her, making her feel comforted and at rest. A sad smile spread across her lips as she knew precisely where she was, Sovngarde.

She followed the path, climbing across the back of the skeleton bridge until she found herself in front of the fabled hall of legend. It was bursting with a warm glow and the sounds of joy and drunken laughter poured form it’s very image. The towering structure was inviting to all who approached, and she knew who she would find inside. The heroes from all of time would greet her with welcome, they would make her join them in song, as they sang of battles and victories, legends and truth. They would dance, sing, drink and be merry. The dream of every nord in skyrim. Lucca wanted nothing more than to step inside and join in the merrieness and finally let herself rest.

 

It had been all that she had wanted since she had last set foot in this place.

 

A deafening roar sounded from the skies above her. Her heart jumped her throat while her lungs refused to work. She wanted to run. She wanted to escape. She wanted anything other than having to face that nightmare again. But she could only plead in her mind while her body felt rooted in its place, refusing to move.  _ No. Not again! Please not again! _ She cried but the words refuse to escape her lips and her terror remained soundless and suffocating.

She felt the hot sickly breath of a beast envelope her from behind as her body trembled. The heat from the nightmare’s breath felt as though it would roast her alive, searing her skin so that only her bones would remain. But she remained and so did the nightmare at her back.

Slowly she forced herself to turn around and face the beast. She found herself staring straight into the glowing red eyes of the ebony dragon as it barred its jagged teeth and pinned her between the hall and itself. She felt as though any energy she had inside her body was being drained away. Her legs seemed as though the would break out beneath her, and vision blurred as though her mind did not want to remain conscious in this moment. It was though the very core of her being was being sucked away

Alduin lashed out at her, his teeth sinking into her skin. She could feel the pain sparking throughout her body and red streaming from every inch of her body. She wanted to scream, cry,  _ anything! _ But she couldn’t even muster the strength to ball her hands into fists. The black dragon swung her through the air like a ragdoll as her body fell deeper into the grip of his teeth. Alduin clamped his jaws down, and Lucca could feel her body break with a  _ crunch!  _ Blood filled her throat as she tried barely hang onto consciousness, but she stop everything fading to black.

 

\------------------------------------

 

Lucca awoke with a start in the inn, jolting herself up and off the hard wooden bed. It took her a long moment in order to catch her breath and calm herself down.  _ It was that stupid nightmare again _ , she had to reminder herself,  _ just a nightmare _ . She wrapped her arms around herself as she sat herself back down on the bed. The nightmares had been getting worse lately, she wasn’t sure how much longer she could take of this. She felt as if she was more drained from one nights sleep, than from traveling on horseback all night last night… It didn’t matter; she needed to prep for the day.

She had just put her mask on when she heard a knock at her door. She took a moment to actually collect herself before she opened the door to face whoever was on the other side. When she opened the door she was face to face with the auburn haired nord that she was traveling with.

“Yes?” She began, hoping she didn’t sound as exhausted as she felt.

“We should be heading out soo一” Brynjolf as it seemed that something had captured his attention.

Lucca tilted her head in confusion, “What?” She asked as she tried to figure out what he was staring at.

He pointed to her right shoulder, and Lucca was suddenly aware of the barmaid outfit she had failed to change out of last night, “Are you alright, lass?” Brynjolf had asked with clear concern in his voice. 

Lucca instinctively put a hand to cover the scar that marred the skin of her right shoulder and neck, but it was too late. Brynjolf had already seen the garrish red  bite wound that creeped across her chest like a web of veins that starkly contrasted with her pale skin.

“What on Nirn happened!? Is that from a bear?” Brynjolf’s stern look took on a more protective  look, his eyebrows knitting together as he approached looming above her.

Lucca placed a firm hand on his chest to stop him from coming any closer, “I’m fine.” She said, “It’s an old scar.”

Brynjolf didn’t look convinced, as he looked much like a parent trying to scold her for trying to lie to him, “It doesn’t look old.”

He was right, the scar was undeniably red and festered, it looked as though it had healed a few days prior, and it ached with a pain still comparable to the day she received it, “It looks far worse than it actually is,” She muttered quietly, refusing to look Brynjolf in the eye.

Brynjolf sighed as he shut his eyes for just a brief moment. He chose to change the subject, knowing better than to press any further on the current one, “We should leave soon if we want to make it back to Riften by nightfall.” He stated finally, a hand running through the hair against his scalp.

Lucca nodded, grateful he dropped the subject altogether, “I’ll get myself ready then.” She begun to close the door as Brynjolf stopped it with a strong hand. Lucca glanced up to meet his stern look.

“You’re certain that you’re alright, lass?” He had asked once more.

Lucca rolled her eyes and shook her head just the slightest bit, “I’ll meet you by the horses.” She said before she finally closed the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again sorry for the late update. College is kinda kicking my butt a little bit. Not a whole lot, but enough that I need to devote most of my time to it in order to get my work done.
> 
> Anyway, as always, thank you for reading this chapter and being patient with me! If you enjoyed this chapter feel free to leave Kudos or a Comment as I would love to talk with you!


	16. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back and forth and Back again!

They left Falkreath while the sun was still high in the sky. It was much later than Lucca would have preferred, but she supposed that that was mostly her fault. The sky was littered with a spattering of both dark and white clouds that threatened to spill over with rain at any given moment. Because of that thought, Lucca chose to pull her hood over head while she held the reigns of her horse firmly in the grasp of her other hand.

“Everything alright?” Brynjolf called out from a little ways behind her.

Lucca turned to glance at him over her shoulder as she jutted a finger up to the sky, “It looks like it might rain soon.”  She looked up to the sky once more as the grey speckled clouds drifted across the sky. Off in the distance she could see the line that crossed the sky, separating the speckled blue of the sky for the dark threatening black of an oncoming storm. “Looks like a bad storm at that.” She had remarked trailing her words off with a sigh. Ofcourse there would be delays on their travels getting back to Riften.

Dark droplets of water begun  stained the dirt road just as the thought had left her mind. “Pinewatch is just a little ways further down the road.” Brynjolf responded making a vague gesture to the misshapen shack that was just barely in the line of sight from where they were, “We can stop there and let the storm pass.”

That seemed like a waste of time to Lucca, especially since they had just left Falkreath not too long ago. She had never minded traveling through rain and storms, but she suppose that not everyone was like that. There seemed to be much more productive things that they could’ve been doing with their time rather than waiting at一 wait a minute, Pinewatch, “Brynjolf, how poorly is the guild doing?”

Brynjolf seemed rather miffed at the question. A touchy subject for him indeed, Lucca noted. “Well as this last job would suggest, lass, I think our luck is beginning to turn.”

“But you wouldn’t pass up a chance to line your coffers would you?” Lucca had said, though it came out far more conniving than she had originally intended it to.

She watched as Brynjolf’s green eyes narrowed into slits, the look of suspicion returning to his expression, “Why?”

“I think I have a good place we can sweep.” She responded. She gave a motion for Brynjolf to follow as she spurred her horse into a trot, as the rain had slowly increased from a steady trickle to a downpour.

 

She led them both to a manor that resided down a path that was just past Pinewatch. A manor that Lucca hadn’t thought she’d be returning to so soon. It was a tall strong building, that seemed to encompass everything that was nordic architecture. Though the magnificence of  opulent household was dulled by what could only be described as lack of upkeep. The garden that lined its walls was overgrown and unruly, and the walls themselves looked worn and under cared for as dust clung to it’s very being. Lucca was almost ashamed to look upon the manor in such a state, not that it’s appearance was helped by the downpour that the sky had blessed them with.

“I’m not sure if this is such a good idea, lass.” Brynjolf said as he dismounted his steed and led it to a worn wooden structure that slightly resembled some sort of makeshift stable.

“Please Bryn,” Lucca replied, surprising them both with her use of a nickname for him. She paused, stifling a cough before she continued, “No one has been home in a while. Just look at the state of this place.” She clambered up the porch of the manor, debating whether or not she wanted to risk pulling out the key she had to the front door in front of Brynjolf. She wasn’t entirely sure how she would talk her way out of that one. So she chose to play it safe and pulled out her lockpicking tools.

Brynjolf suddenly stood beside her at the front door, his hands reaching for the tools that she held within her own, “Let me do that, lass.” He said softly, as if not wanting to alert any creature that might have resided anywhere nearby.

“I know how to pick a lock, Brynjolf.” She held fast to the tools within her hands, trying to not pay attention to the fact that he was so close. Personal space should not have affected her this badly.

“I know that.” Brynjolf reaffirmed, this time placing a calloused hand on top off her own to impede her from working further on the lock, “Just let me do it, please.”

Lucca begrudgingly released the tools to Brynjolf’s care, stepping aside to let him do his work. Brynjolf was done with the lock swiftly, and it turned with a satisfying  _ click! _ Brynjolf pushed the door open and remained motionless as he just stared inside the dimly lit home. 

“Believe me now?” Lucca chided playfully as she gestured through the doorway, as if her hand was trying to catch the dust specks that fell from the ceiling, “The place is empty.”

“Can never be too careful,” He stood up from his crouched position though he still made no move to actually enter the threshold of the house, “Especially with the luck the guild has been having as of late.”

Lucca let out a laugh as she sauntered inside, “I thought you said our luck was turning.”

“Our?” Brynjolf placed his hands on his hips with a questioning look gracing his features.

“Oh I’m sorry.” Lucca feigned ignorance, “I hadn’t realized I was kicked out of the guild already.”

He smiled and shook his head as he finally entered the threshold of the house, shutting the door quietly behind him. The house was dimly lit, the smell of must and dust filled the confines and the patter of the rain hitting the room could be heard from every corner, “Mind telling me whose house we are robbing then?” 

Lucca plucked one of the letters that littered a small end table that was placed off to the side, “I assume Thane Vivia of Falkreath.” She replied, reading the name off the top of the letter.

“And how exactly did you come across, Thane Vivia’s empty manor.” Brynjolf had questioned further, much to Lucca’s dismay.

“I-” Lucca began, as she scrambled for some excuse, “-have passed this place a few times before.” She continued sounding more and more confident in her own story as she went along, “On the way to Whiterun I noticed the place looked rather run down.”

Brynjolf still didn’t look convinced, but seemed to set the question aside as he explored the manor eyeing every bauble and decoration with a scrutinous eye. Lucca took this as a chance to slip away and travel towards the back of the house, to the master bedroom.

She forgot how clandestine this room had been decorated, with mounted spoils from hunting hanging from the walls, and an array of daggers on display in a series of cases strewn between a massive library of books. She remembered why she’s left this place; just being in this room made her cringe. She walked through her hands trailing on the spines of the books that made up the rather impressive library, but stopped when her hand fell across a well worn leather spine of an old journal. She paused as her gaze fell upon a set of twenty matching journals that were lined up neatly in a row. She pulled the first journal from the shelf and opened to one of the beginning pages.

“Find anything worthwhile?” 

Lucca snapped the journal shut as she jumped to hide it from view, “Just some display cases and a lockbox that I have yet to crack.” She moved over to the lockbox that sat on the end table that resided just beside the bed. With a flourish of twiddling the lockpick between her fingers before she got to work, she had the lockbox opened in a mere amount of seconds. She pulled out an ornate amulet laced with decadent jewels intricate engravings within its cool metallic surface. She tossed the amulet over towards Brynjolf, “That seem worthwhile to you?”

Brynjolf caught the necklace and turned the amulet over in his hand, “What else is in there?”

Lucca lifted the lockbox up from the end table; it was heavier than she had expected. As the lockbox shifted the coins and rings clinked and shifted sounding out that it did, in fact, have much more to offer. Still Lucca simply shrugged her shoulders and offered a measly, “Just some other stuff.” She ended up dumping the contents into a coin purse she held inside the satchel at her hip, and tossing the coin purse itself over to Brynjolf as well.

They were interrupted by a wrapping knock on the front door; one that sent the pair into a state of alert. Each of them crouched and kept low to the ground as they neared the front door. There another round of fists pounding on the front door and a loud gruff voice, muffed by the wood of the door, spouting to open up in the name of the Jarl.

The pair glanced to each other, the situation leaving them both rather underprepared. In a spur of quick thinking, Lucca flung out her cloak from around her shoulders and shoved in Brynjolf’s directions as she scrambled back into the master bedroom. When she emerged once more she had slipped fine clothing over her own, and plopped a circlet around her head.

A glance over towards Brynjolf’s direction told her that he was incredulously confused as to what she was trying to do. Lucca made a hand motion, as is to silently signal for him to get out of sight, and she hoped to god that he had actually followed that instruction. At a snap of her own fingers the glamour spell she had used before was reapplied. 

Another pounding sounded against the door, and it seemed whoever was on the other side was growing restless and impatient. Lucca walked over to the door, not bothering to muffle the sounds of her movements at this time. She opened the door to a pair of guards, who wore the Falkreath sigil. The pair, however, looked surprised when Lucca opened the door.

“What is the meaning of this?” Lucca stated, pulling the most regal tone that she could muster; it had been awhile since she last had to play noble.

“Lady Vivia!” One of the guards had exclaimed as both straightened to a strained attention, “We had not realize you had returned home.”

Lucca puffed her chest, “I had not realized that my travelings were any of your concern” She practically hissed.

The guards both looked terrified despite their face covering helmets. Lucca guessed that they were both young, or new to the job, since they both shifted uneasily in their boots and seemed to look to each other whenever they needed support. “Nobody has seen you in weeks, my thane.” One of the guards piped up, taking a noticeable lead in this encounter. “Certainly Jarl Siddgeir would want your presence at the longhouse.”

Highly unlikely, according to what Lucca remembered of Jarl Siddgeir. The man couldn’t care less about his position as Jarl of Falkreath. She chose to maintain some semblance of composure as she looked out to the downpour that was raining behind them, “I’ll go out see him once the storm passes.” She stated simply wanting to end the conversation before it became drawn out too long. She looked back at the two guards in front of her through a narrowed gaze, “Now I kindly request that you two leave.” Though her words came out as more of a threat than a request.

The two guards seemed reluctant at the thought. They seemed to shift uncomfortably, and glanced back and forth between each other. Lucca however was growing impatient, and wanting the whole ordeal to be over with soon. She tapped her foot impatiently one the ground, “I suggest you get your  _ asses _ off my land  _ immediately _ .” She growled looking evermore infuriated. 

That was enough to get the two to shuffle off in a hurry. Lucca closed the door to the manor, with a satisfied grin on her face. She shirked herself of the noble garb that she wore, and returned her appearance to normal letting out an exhausted sigh once her hair returned to its normal silver.

“Quite the silver tongue you have, lass.”

Lucca looked over towards Brynjolf who stood with his arms folded over his chest looking more suspicious of her than ever.

Great. She had just talked herself out of one fire and straight into another, “You’d be amazed how far a little confidence can get you.”

“Enough to impersonate a thane?”

“Yes, but I doubt I was able to do her likeness justice.” Lucca said trying to find something other than Brynjolf to look at, “not that it matters much,” She continued, “I honestly doubt that that they’ll bother to come back here again.”

“Look,” He began, “I can hardly blame you if you ran away from thaneship, just don’t lie about it.”

Lucca seemed to freeze as she looked over to Brynjolf once more, this time with nothing but apathy in her gaze, “So what if I was a thane in another life?” She asked, “What would that change?” She meandered over to the dining hall of the large manor glancing around the vast collection of decorations and trophies, “Besides, I can’t imagine myself living like this, it’d be boring, no way to get myself into trouble.”

“I don’t take kindly to liars, lass.” He said as his own gaze narrowed in annoyance,

“An interesting sentiment.” She retorted just as swiftly, “given your occupation.” There was a long stretch of silence between the two of them, one that bored into the very core of Lucca’s mind. She sighed, “If I had known that I was only going to grilled, I would have preferred traveling in the downpour.” She mumbled quietly to herself.

 

\--------------

 

It was hours before the storm passed and Brynjolf and Lucca were finally able to get back on the road. They rode in bitter silence, like most of their travels as of late. Not to say as if there was no attempt at conversation between the two of them. Brynjolf had opened his mouth as to try and initiate some form of conversation. However, Lucca was quick to stop him before he could even begin to utter a single sound. 

“What in Nirn do you want from me?!” She shouted glaring at him from across the dirt road with a fierce look, “Do you want me to tell you my entire life story, before you get off my ass?!” 

Brynjolf shut his mouth and didn’t try to talk to her again. It was tenacious to understand her. Whenever they seemed to make progress in their own understanding of each other, what ever progress they had made seemed to be ripped away in an instant. It was a very infuriating endeavour. She was very protective of the walls she had built to protect herself. It be difficult for any thief to try and sneak their way in.

They had traveled a long way, making it to about where the Falkreath hold and the Rift join before night fell and darkness enveloped the land. It was around that time that both of them had decided to set up camp for the night, both refusing to repeat what had happened the night prior.

Brynjolf had taken liberty of setting up a small campfire, while Lucca had chosen to go scavenge for food in solitude, though she had left her things in a neat pile by one of the logs in the area. The fire was easy enough to set up, despite most of the wood he had found in the area being soaked. So Brynjolf had decided to sit back, leaning his back against the log and just waiting for her to return. 

At least, that was what he was planning on doing, until something in the pile of Lucca’s stuff had caught his eye. It was a leatherbound book, a journal by the looks of it, that had been worn and used to the point that it looked several years old. He flipped open to the first page.

 

_ Property of Lucca Deldovh _

 

_ Morndas, 17 of Last Seed, 4e 201 _

_ I have only been inside the borders of Skyrim for a single day and already things have gone to shit. I can't describe the horrors I have seen. An entire settlement in flames. _

_ I should have known better than to travel to Skyrim in the middle of a war. With my luck, its no wonder I would get swept up in the middle of an ambush, and then carted off to face whatever punishment these Stormcloaks face. Wouldn’t you know, it I was sat next to Jarl Ulfric himself, “The true high king” as his comrade called him. It didn’t matter. We were all headed to the same place. Helgen. _

 

Brynjolf was in the midst of reading the rest of the first entry before he felt the book suddenly jerked away from his grasp. He looked up to find Lucca clutching the journal tightly to her chest, and a look in her eye that he couldn’t quite place. It was reminiscent of terror and fear, but something somber and painful behind it. “How much?!” She hissed, the grimace of her face showing through the folds of her mask. 

“Helgen.” Brynjolf breathed out. He saw her hand clutch harder around the journal she held at her breast, the skin around the knuckles of her hand pulled taught and white.

“You had no right.” Her voice wavered slightly, it was barely noticeable, but it was there. She shifted herself away from him, as she tossed two lifeless rabbits onto his lap. “You can skin them yourself.” She hissed, as she traveled to the furthest point she could get away from him, while still being within the comfort of the fire.

“Are you not eating, lass?” Brynjolf had asked completely steering clear of the topic at hand.

“Not. Hungry.” She huffed, pulling her hood up and over her face trying to avoid the situation entirely like an angered teenager.

“Is that where the scar is from? From Helgen?” He asked tentatively, though he felt as if he were prodding a dragon with a stick.

Lucca’s breath hitched in her chest, as a hand unconsciously brushed over the area where the scar marred her body. There was a long silent paused, before she let out an controlled sigh, “That dragon…” She said in a quiet voice that Brynjolf could hardly hear, “... yes.” She finally laid down on the ground her back towards Brynjolf.. “Are you done now?” She called out.

“Sorry?” He responded, not really understanding what she had meant.

She let out another controlled and exasperated sigh, “You know more about me than nearly everyone I have ever met in my life. Are you happy now? Are you satisfied? Will you stop asking stupid questions now?”

Brynjolf took a moment, he didn’t say anything in response, but it seemed he didn’t need to, because Lucca didn’t ask, or even talk about it again. He shut his eyes, he wasn’t sure if the lass was even awake at the moment. He supposed he would keep watch for the night, and make sure nothing happened upon them in the middle of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So when I said this was a slow burn. I meant a REALLY slow burn. Granted we are making progress, albeit Lucca being the guarded person that she is any progress is definitely going to be slow.
> 
> ANYWAY!!! Thank you for reading this Chapter, as always. It you enjoyed this chapter feel free to leave kudos or a comment as I would love to talk to you!!!


	17. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITs BEen a while guys!!! Sorry for long wait.

They had returned to Riften and practically gone their separate ways as soon as they had passed through the city gates. Much to Brynjolf’s surprise, their success on their job in Whiterun was the only job to have any remote form of success all week. Brynjolf had hoped that Lucca’s and his success was a sign of the guild’s luck turning around. But perhaps he had been foolish to even hope for that.

 

The months that followed seemed dull and grey. Brynjolf and Lucca practically danced around each other, avoiding interaction at every chance at they could get. She always was off and about picking up jobs from Vex whenever she could. Surprisingly enough, Lucca appeared to be the only one doing successfully in her work. Perhaps she was the only one the guild’s spell of bad luck didn’t effect. 

Lucca seemed to maintain some form of balance between herself and everyone else in the guild. She only remained in the cistern whenever she needed to turn in another job, or when she was hanging out with the one person in the guild that she had some form of friendship with. Nobody really thought that she and Sapphire would come as close as they now seemed to be. Brynjolf had simply assumed that it was because they were both people that didn’t talk about their own pasts, and therefore wouldn’t ask each other. It appeared to be the perfect friendship for someone like Lucca.

 

Brynjolf was seated with Delvin going over some of the jobs that had flown in. Ever since Lucca had been returning successful from each job that she had picked up, they had been having an influx of work being requested of them, and someone had to sort all the work that needed to be done.

Mercer burst out the cistern in clamorous rage. He didn’t bother disguising the stampede that was his footsteps as they sounded against the stone floor. When he entered the Ragged Flagon he pivoted on his heel approaching the table where Delvin and Brynjolf where sitting and slamming both of his hands on the surface.

“Where is that protege of yours, Brynjolf?” Mercer barked, the everlasting sneer still painted on his face.

Delvin and Brynjolf glanced at each other. Each of them new precisely who he was talking about. “No one has seen the lass in a few days, Mercer.” Delvin piped up as Brynjolf found his nose stuck in a ledger and a quill rapidly writing in his hand.

Mercer rolled his eyes as he cursed under his breath, “Find her. Now.” He growled, “Maven wants to meet her.” With that he pushed himself off the table and stormed back off back to his post in the cistern.

Delvin and Brynjolf once again glanced at each other, this time both with their own look of concern, “It’s not wise to keep Maven waiting,” Delvin said with an almost chiding tone.

Brynjolf sighed, he knew well that he certainly didn’t want to inflict the wrath of Maven Black-Briar, “Does anybody have any inkling of an idea, where she is?” 

Delvin gave a look like Brynjolf already knew the answer, “Well, the little lass turned in a job for me just a few days ago,” Delvin began, “And hasn’t picked another one up, so I have no clue. But you know who would know…” Delvin wiggled his eyebrows as Brynjolf knew who exactly he was talking about.

“Alright.” Brynjolf sighed as he pushed himself up from the table and shambled his way towards the back, and towards the door of the cistern.

Sapphire leaned against the wall near the archery range turning a dagger over and over in her hand. It was a dagger Brynjolf had never seen before, intricate and beautiful in it’s own right. It was pristine silver with a glow of Dwarven bronze intricately woven in a celtic design. It must have taken some painstaking effort to craft a knife of that detail.

“Where did you get that?” Brynjolf asked as he wandered his way over towards where Sapphire had planted herself in the cister.

Sapphire shrugged as she returned the dagger to what appeared to be a specially crafted leather sheath for the dagger itself, “Lu said it was an old dagger.” Sapphire responded rather nonchalantly, “It looks expensive, but she said she didn’t care if I took it or not.”

That seemed strange to Brynjolf, the dagger looked extremely opulent and looked like, if sold to the right vendor, it could fetch a pretty sum. Then again, Lucca never really seemed like the type to hold tightly to most items. “Sell it.” Brynjolf offered. There was no denying the guild could benefit from the funds of such a piece.

Sapphire’s brow stitched together in displeasure at the thought and hitched the sheath on the belt on her waist, “What did you want, Bryn?” She said finally with a sigh. Clearly not fooled by his attempt at small talk.

“I need to know where Lucca is.” 

“Have you tried her house?” She responded, her tone flat and monotonous.

“House?” Brynjolf asked, last time he checked Lucca was staying in the Bee and Barb after having befriended Keerava.

Sapphire rolled her eyes, “She bought Honeyside last week.” She stated bluntly as she moved to walk past Brynjolf to the otherside of the cistern, “Start there.”

 

\----------------------------

 

Brynjolf stood in front of a wooden door located in the far corner of Riften, debating on whether or not he wanted to knock on the door. Honeyside was a small house, nothing compared to the manors that Brynjolf had known both Mercer and Maven to own. Still, despite its size, Brynjolf had only ever known the beds within the cistern and the several inns that he had stayed at. He sighed, as he raised his fist to strike against the door.

There was a clatter and a yelp from behind the door, and a clamour of footsteps racing towards the door. The door opened to a disheveled Lucca who seemed to be trying to talk her way out of a situation before she even looked at who was at the door, “Look lads, if this is about last night I promise you I had nothing to一” Lucca paused as she looked at who was standing in front of her, “Oh. Brynjolf.” She rolled her eyes as she opened the door further leaving the door wide open for him, “Come on in.”

If Brynjolf thought the house was small from the outside, it didn’t compare to the quaint size on the inside. The house was simply decorated, with what seemed to be the bare minimum. A table, a chair, a bed, the only thing that she seemed to carry in abundance was the library of books that had been strewn about across the floor. Brynjolf had guessed that this probably the clatter that he had heard earlier. Lucca had knelt to the ground to gather up the disarray.

“Sorry,” Lucca had chimed while she picked up the scattered books and places them on the sole table in the room, “I thought you were the city guard, it caught me off kilter.”

“Been getting in trouble lately, lass?” Brynjolf asked as he glanced around the house.

Lucca shrugged, waving a hand in dismissal, “It was just a practical joke or two, nothing bad. Granted Haelga wasn’t too happy.”

“Haelga is protected by the guild.” He scolded. She had been paying her dues ever since Lucca had strong-armed her in the first place.

“I didn’t steal anything.” Lucca dismissed again, “Just slipped a few phony potions into her ‘collection’” She was wearing her mask, but Brynjolf could see the hints of a devious grin on her face, “Last time I checked she was headed down to Elgrim’s for some rash.”

Brynjolf let out a chuckle as he felt a warm smile grace his face. Ever since the Whiterun job Lucca had seemed closed off. He hadn’t realised how much he had missed this trickster part to her personality. Even if it was just a glimmer, he was glad that there were still hints of that cunning personality still there. 

“Anyway,” Lucca said guiding the conversation back towards a more sensible topic, “You wanted something?” She leaned against the wall with her arms folded across her chest, though she refused to look him in the eye. 

She closed herself off again. She was adamant on shutting him out. 

Brynjolf sighed, “Maven wants to see you.” He responded simply, “She asked for you by name.”

Her brows furrowed at the thought of meeting the fabled Black-briar, “What on earth would she want with me.” She mumbled quietly as if it wasn’t directed towards anyone in particular.

“This isn’t a social call, lass.”

Lucca’s ice eyes flashed up at him with a look of wariness that seemed so out of character for the strong willed facade that she often wore, “I’m not an idiot, Brynjolf.” Her words were stern and she held a hand to her chin as she pondered the situation. She sighed, “And here I was hoping to avoid that family entirely.”  She glanced back at Brynjolf, this time with a much softer look in her eyes than before, “I’m going to survive this encounter, right?” She joked.

Brynjolf gave a soft smile as he made his way back to the front door of her house. He opened the door and held it, gesturing for her to exit the house with him. She simply rolled her eyes as she walked out of the door. “I wouldn’t be too worried,” Brynjolf said as the both exited Honeyside, “If it were like that, she wouldn’t be asking for you. She’d be calling on the Dark Brotherhood.”

She hesitated. It was slight, just a pause and it was for only a sliver of a moment, but he noticed. Lucca was quick to recover though, she simply shrugged, “Then it’s probably not the best idea to keep such a powerful woman waiting.”

She wasn’t wrong. “Just keep your ears open, and your mouth shut. You’ll do fine.” 

 

\--------------------------------

 

Lucca found the meeting place in the second floor of the Bee and Barb. It was ominously dark, and Maven sat in a dimly lit alcove just tucked out of sight. Clearly she was not a woman who wanted to attract unwanted attention.

Lucca approached, though she was probably much quieter in her approach than she was intending, because Maven made the slightest of jumps in her seat as soon Lucca stepped into the candle light. Maven looked like a stern woman, who could scrutinize any being under her cold hard gaze and figure out how to turn it to her own profit. The kind of woman, Lucca noted, that she could very easily piss off. 

Maven looked Lucca over, sizing up every inch of Lucca from the ragged hood and mask that she donned on her head, to the muddy common boots that were clearly worn down to their lest legs of life. “So you’re the one.” Maven spoke in the most unamused tone, her face maintaining a slack that could only be described as someone who clearly felt above all others. “Hmm… You don’t look so impressive.”

Divines guide her. Lucca was going to struggle with this encounter. She knew better than to try and used honeyed words with this woman. Maven was a woman who responded to action. Nothing Lucca could possibly sway Maven’s favor.

Lucca ungracefully seated herself in the chair that stood just across from Maven with an unceremonious huff, “How about we skip the pointless small talk?”

The corners of Maven’s mouth curled upwards in a pointed and knowing smile, “Quiet a firebrand aren’t we?” She leaned confidently back into her chair, a calculating finger resting against her chin, “It’s about time Brynjolf brought me someone with a business sense. I was beginning to think Brynjolf was running a beggars guild.”

Lucca held her words at the crest of her teeth, and steadied her upper lip so that it didn’t curl into the snarl that she had often adopted when something annoyed her. Not that it would have mattered, but under Maven’s scrutinous gaze Lucca figured that the slightest unwarranted fold in her mask could spell a bad outcome.

They sat for what had seemed like ages in tense strenuous silence. It felt as though Maven was expecting some sort of remark to come out of Lucca’s mouth, but Lucca refused. Lucca opted instead for a familiar silence and a hard gaze, a tactic that had often served her well in these sorts of encounters. However, it seemed that Maven was just as content to sit and glare and partake in their impromptu game. 

“Nothing to say?” Maven spoke finally, her brow raising in an arch to reveal an air of intrigue that betrayed her almost regal demeanor.

“I thought we wanted to skip small talk.”

Maven let out a scoff, though Lucca couldn’t tell if she was annoyed or impressed, “Look, all I care about is cause and effect. Did the job get done and was it done correctly. There’s no gray area.”

“And the job?” Lucca insisted. She had spent much more time in this room than she really wanted.

“I have a competitor called Honningbrew Meadery that I want to put out of business. I also want to know how they managed to get the place up and running so quickly.” Maven explained, though her lax expression displayed only a certain air of disinterest over the subject altogether, “The place is run by some layabout Sabjorn. Been a thorn in my side for the past few years now.”

Lucca nodded sharply, and rose from her seat when Maven sharply grabbed her arm. Her fingers dug into the skin on Lucca’s arm. Lucca looked back over to Maven, only to be met with a fierce glare that only fools with a death wish would ever challenge.

“Let me be entirely clear. You butcher this job and you’ll be sorry. No blood. No bodies.”

Lucca could feel herself growing more and more impatient with this woman, “Despite the events at Honeyglow, I don’t make a habit of murder.” She replied, though she had to hold herself back from almost hissing with bared teeth,

Maven, however, seemed unconvinced, “It’s an unhealthy practice to lie to me.” She warned with an untempered intimidation to her voice, “I have had many dealings with the brotherhood, I know an  _ assassin  _ when I see one.”

Lucca could feel every muscle in her body locked up. Her fingers twitched as the cup that held back all of her brash anger threatened to spill over, “I don’t you know what you mean.” She said with a calculated control. It took everything in her power to keep herself from punching this smug woman in her pompous face. Instead she chose the more logical option, and simply left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the really late Update. I'm probably going to get really busy pretty soon, since finals are coming up for me, but I will try to keep the updates coming. 
> 
> On a different note, people have found my tumblr. Its all over for me, I've been found.
> 
> Anyways, Thank you, as always, for reading this chapter of my story. Feel free to leave kudos or a comment as I would love to talk to you!!!!


End file.
